Out Of A Hat
by Firefly Conlon
Summary: A note in a hat, a best friend who's obsessed with Newsies, an arrogant leader, new kids, good luck, bad luck, Bronx, time travel, danger. And those haunting blue eyes watching me the entire time.
1. A Freak Accident

**It was like, midnight, when I had the inspiration for this story. I don't want to write another crappy ending like all my other stories, so chapter two is finished and three is in the making. Leaving for Camp tomorrow, and I got the idea for her name from the camp: Shakespearian man! WOOHOO! 'Thou speakest a right'**

**Disclaimer: I do not, (sadly) own Newsies (yet). **

**Claimer: I do own Clara, Juliet, **

* * *

My name is Juliet Rose Parker, I am sixteen years old. I live in a small town in Ohio and I go to Micharch High School. The most interesting thing about me? I HATE the Newsies. Sadly enough, it is my best friend Clara's favorite movie. This means that every Friday night, religiously, I have to go to her house to be put through torture. One hundred and twenty ear-splitting minutes of absolute _torture_. It was no different this weekend, fifteen minutes after I got home from work my cell phone rang; it was the 'King of New York' song that Clara had downloaded to my phone. "Yellow," I said chirpily.

"Come on, it's Friday," she said impatiently. "Do I even need to call you anymore?"

"Be there in fifteen minutes," I said, rushing up the stairs to my room to pack. I looked around the room, my walls were cream colored and my bedspread was green. I saw the handle sticking out from under the bed and grabbed my green messenger bag. I hastily threw in my "Metallica" concert t-shirt and blue pajama pants. I grabbed a clean shirt out of my drawer, realizing it was the one Clara made me. "Newsies Forever" printed on the front in block letters. I pretended not to hate it for her sake, but boy did it get annoying. I even threw in my S.C. costume, just in case she went totally wacko. I knew all the lyrics to every Newsies song, and made some parodies I'm very proud of. I added my cell phone, hairbrush, toothbrush, deodorant and fully charged IPod to the mix. I shoved the bag over my shoulder and trampled back down the red carpeted stairs. I scribbled a hasty note to my mother, but she'd know where I was, like I said, _every_ Friday night.

I threw my bag in the front seat of my beat up green convertible, and pulled out of the driveway. I pretty much knew the way to Clara's house blindfolded. As soon as I was in the front door, she whirled around, putting popcorn in the microwave and setting down in front of the T.V. with two root beers. I knew that the movie was in the DVD player already, it hardly ever left. You'd think she would have gotten sick of it by now…

"OMG, guess what I found at a garage sale?" I squealed, pulling out a present I had gotten her.

"Awwwww thanks! OMG! It looks just like Racetrack's!" she pulled the worn black cabby cap over her unruly blond hair. Her green eyes sparkled in delight as Max Casella's voice came on, 'In 1899, the streets of New York,' I effectively tuned him out. I daydreamed about my nonexistent boyfriend; he would have blond-brown hair, and blue eyes. He would be very popular, and defend me against bullies. Seeing as I'm kind of a HUGE nerd, but I knew I was going to get into a good college someday! I want to be an actress. Although dividing the change in X by the change in Y doesn't have anything to do with being on stage.

"OPEN THE GATES AND SEIZE THE DAY!" Clara's off key voice pulled me from my reverie. "DON'T BE AFRAID AND DON'T DELAY!"

"Nothing can break us, no one can make us, give our rights away, arise and seize the day," I sang softly, and in tune. Clara smiled at me, I found myself enjoying the rest of the film against my will. The only good part of this movie? Gabriel Damon, almost shirtless…dang he's hot! Well, was hot, when he was sixteen and pretty. Now he's thirty four, and slightly less attractive…Clara was the proud owner of an autographed photo from him. (I admit it, I was jealous) From most of them, Aaron Lohr, Christian Bale, David Moscow, Luke Edwards, Arvie Lowe Jr., and of course, Max Casella. Racetrack Higgins was her absolute favorite; she practically had a shrine built to the guy. If her house caught fire, the thing she grabbed would be her _fireproof_ box (She got it for her birthday) of newsie autographs.

She ran into her room and began to take pictures of her in her new hat; she even took pictures of me in it. She pulled out her key necklace (which she wore at all times) and got out her blue suspenders, taking pictures in full costume. She really was a total freak, but she was my best friend! Better obsess over a group of 60 or so hot teenage guys that sing than something like Bratz dolls right? If it was going to be anything, I'm glad it was Newsies. Clara and I finished the movie and started gossiping about guys and clothes and other girly stuff. "So, who do you have a crush on?" she asked me.

"No one, I'm waiting to find someone perfect," I smiled.

"Like?" she probed.

"A popular, smart guy. He'll be handsome and strong, and defend me against bullies and the idiot football team! Of course he'll get straight A's and be in the Drama Club too. He'll have to look just like a sixteen year old version of Gabriel Damon, he's just so _hot_," I sighed dreamily. Clara laughed.

"Prince Charming to the principal's office, Prince Charming to the principal's office," she faked an intercom voice.

"Whatever, so what about you?" I asked.

"You know that answer to that one; I'm never going to be married. I'm going to grow up and start a monastery for girls who wanted to marry Max Casella, but couldn't because they were too young or too afraid of his life as a Hollywood actor," she sighed dreamily as well. Her life goal made me chuckle and send her my best 'Spot Conlon' imitation smirk. She rolled over onto her sleeping bag, laughing like a hyena. I had perfected that smirk when, at Halloween, Clara showed up on my front stoop with a garbage bag. Inside the garbage bag was a pair of slightly-too-short brown trousers, black boots, red suspenders, a key necklace like hers, a cane with a gold top, and a gingham shirt. This was my Spot Conlon costume, which I still have to this day, sadly. Then I remembered I had it in my bag, I ran to go get it. (I HATE the Newsies, and Spot Conlon was my _least _favorite. Gabriel Damon is hot, but Spot Conlon really needs an attitude adjustment, if I ever met him…I swore that I would ignore him completely and tell him off)

"How about a Newsies fashion show?" I asked, returning. The movie may be terrible, but heck…I'd humor my best friend.

"Of course, you are truly brilliant." She began pulling things out of an old wooden chest. This was her 'Newsies' chest. Inside it were costumes, shirts, suspenders, props, slingshots, several bags of 'shooters', and empty glass bottles. She had trousers, cabby caps, shoes, everything necessary to do a fashion show fit for boys in the turn of the century New York. Clara had dragged me through several thrift stores for this stuff. Clara was my best friend, and had been since third grade, when we met fighting over a Peter Pan coloring page. Besties ever since! We changed into outfit after outfit, giggling and snapping photos with her old Polaroid camera. "Hey, check this out," she motioned me over. I sheathed my gold topped 'Spot' cane into my belt loop and walked over to her. She was inspecting the black cabby cap I had given her.

"What is it?" I asked, squinting.

"Read this," she said, handing me a small note. "I found it tucked into the stitching of the tag."

It was a small, handwritten note. There was a small inscription: 'If you have found this hat, then you have found a piece of history. My name is Toni Higgins, and this is my hat in your hands. If you want to come meet me and my friends, just say these words, "I wish to travel to Toni" that should do it. If it doesn't work, don't worry about it. –Toni 'Racetrack' Higgins'

"That is really freakishly strange," I said, handing her the note.

"Racetrack! What if it's really him?" she asked, re-reading the note again.

"It's impossible!" I was adamant.

"Let's see if it works!" she begged. This was totally insane, but it couldn't hurt.

"Just in case, pack my bag with some stuff to take," I'd humor Clara; it really wouldn't do anything would it? It was just a coincidence.

"Alright," she began hastily shoving her favorite newsie accessories, clothes, and the two dresses she had from that era, into my bag. I was still in my 'Spot Wear' and Clara was in a random assortment of suspenders, shoes, shirt and trousers. She shouldered my bag, grabbed my hand, and stood in the middle of the room. Here we go, "I wish to travel to Toni," she said. All of a sudden, it felt like hurricane force winds were blowing all around us. Her hand never left mine, I felt her fingers tighten in shock and fright as a light came from all around us. It was blinding and white, I wanted to close my eyes and shield them, but I couldn't move. I couldn't move my body at all; I was powerless, without control over anything. "Juli!" Clara shouted.

"Clara!" I shouted back over the wind. Suddenly, the light disappeared, seeming to shatter before us, the wind died down. But as the light shattered, I lost consciousness. I was floating in an ebbing sea of blackness, it made me think of the line from Wuthering Heights: 'Do not leave me in this black abyss where I cannot find you!' I tried to call Clara's name, but I couldn't talk. I couldn't move…

I could feel everything happening around me, my eyes had closed as I slipped into the oblivion. The ground solidified under my back, feeling cool, but not uncomfortable. Clara's hand had left mine, and I wanted to regain control and look around, still I was confined. A prisoner within myself. There was a slight tingling feeling all over my body; this must be the aftershock of whatever just happened. I heard several pairs of shoes walking towards us; there was an occasional 'click' as something wood hit the cobblestones below. "What's dat?" one of the voices asked with a thick New York accent. Holy. Crap. It had worked.

"I dunno, looks like two morons decided ta fight da Delancy bruddas." Voice #2 said calmly.

"They ain't unjahed," Voice #3 countered, I heard the clicking noise again.

"Wait, what is that?" Voice #1 said, something removed my hat. My hair splayed out. "God, it's a goil!"

"It's _two_ goils!" Voice #2 said. _Thank you Captain Obvious for your lovely observation!_ I thought.

"What are two goils doin passed out in da street?" Voice #3 was suspicious; I heard traces of a heavy Brooklyn accent. I was glad that Clara was still here with me, and then I had another thought. There could only be one owner of that voice, Spot Conlon. Voice #2 was obviously Jack Kelley, and that left Voice #1 to be Racetrack Higgins.

"Take em' to 'Hattan," Spot said, "I'm staying ovah tonight. It's too late ta go across da bridge." His voice got louder as he spoke, and two arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground. One arm supported my mid-back, the other held under the bend in my knees, carrying me bridal style.

"Spot? Two random goils passed out in da street, and youse are gonna take em straight to da base of operations?" Racetrack asked, suspicion lacing his tone as well.

"When they wake up, we'll ask em some questions. What's a better way to keep an eye on em? And would you leave to helpless goils ta da Delancy's?" Spot asked, feigning shock. "Race, grab dat bag." Good thing, that bag had all of our clothes in it, although it would be hard to explain the IPod.

"Good idea, Ise forgot about dose two mud-for-brains," Jack said, I heard a swishing noise, probably Clara being picked up.

"Heya Jacky-boy, look at what mine's wearin," I heard the amusement in Spot's voice. Then I remembered I was wearing the exact same thing he probably was, _crap!_ This was gonna be really hard to explain once we woke up.

"Looks like your clothes," I heard the laugh in Jack's voice. Racetrack jogged up, he was not carrying someone, the little jerk.

"Spot, youse got a twin," he chuckled. Spot shrugged, my immobile form moving up and down in his arms. I'd seen this boy on the screen, how was he carrying me so far? He's small, but strong I suppose, in order to be the leader of _Brooklyn,_ the toughest borough in New York. ('and probably everywhere else')

"Wondah where deys is from," Spot said.

"Don't have a clue, why were they laying in da street in da middle of da night?" Race asked no one in particular.

"Mine's cold, let's get em inside," Jack said, I heard a door open. My head hit the side of a doorframe, OW! WHAT THE HECK CONLON?

"Oops, sorry doll," he whispered, just in case I could hear him, which I could. The tingling feeling had retreated to just my torso, I found I could move my fingers stiffly. I felt/heard Spot go up stairs, and I was set on a rock hard mattress. Clara was probably having a heart attack; we were inside her favorite movie. Racetrack Higgins was sitting by her; I heard his voice from across the room.

"This one is kinda good lookin," Clara was gonna die of happiness.

"She's alright, I like Spot's better," Jack said, _Spot's?_ Did I belong to anyone here? Seriously? Then I remembered they didn't know our names yet, and forgave them in my head. I felt the ability to open my eyes return, I fluttered my lashes, everything was so blurry.

"Jacky-boy, dis dame is wakin up," Spot said. I heard footsteps. I saw a black-bray blob above me, and then I saw two bits of blue. I blinked a couple of times and my vision cleared. This is like a really bad movie, get me OUT of here! Spot Conlon looked concerned, but quickly hid it under amusement. Jack Kelley looked like he just wanted to run around the room screaming 'We found two pretty girls in the street! La la la!'

"Hey goil, what's yoah name?" Spot asked, feeling my forehead. "She got a slight temperature, but dat may be from bein in my presence," Spot said. _Attitude adjustment_ I thought. Jack left to get something, and Spot asked me for my name again.

"Juliet Rose Parker, I am sixteen," I gave my usual introduction.

"So am I," Spot smirked; I really just wanted to slap him.

"How'd you get here" he asked.

"Train from, er, Ohio," I lied.

"Alright, why were you guys passed out in the street like dat?" he asked, I heard Clara groan and attempted to sit up. Spot put his hand on my shoulder in restraint, "Don't hoit (hurt) yourself further, just stay," _yes nurse Spot_ I thought sarcastically. Jack returned with a cold compress for my temperature, and went to interrogate Clara. As soon as I heard her voice, it went into her high-pitched fan mode.

"OMG! RACETRACK HIGGINS! I'm in the Manhattan lodging house aren't I? Where is Juliet?" She was speaking a mile a minute, and Race looked confused.

"Juliet is fine, just runnin a slight temperature," Jack reassured Clara.

"Jack Kelley?" she was breathless. "Is that Spot over there?" she asked.

"How do you know our names?" Jack asked, completely confused.

"Reputation," I answered, shooting Clara a look that read 'don't tell them what really happened'!

"Really? All the way in Ohio? Which one did you hear about?" Jack asked.

"Spot Conlon of course," Clara piped up. Spot's ego inflated just a little more. "The fearless King of Brooklyn," she used her perfected newsie accent. I had, luckily, also been forced to learn a Manhattan _and_ Brooklyn accent.

"Really? Wow, I'd have thought it would have been me," Jack said, rather sadly.

"I did, and a certain boy named Racetrack, but I don't know which one he is," I grabbed Spot's surprised collar and hauled myself into a sitting position so I could see the room more clearly.

"Pleased to meet youse, Racetrack Higgins at youse soivace," Race shook my hand.

"So what going to happen to us?" I asked.

"Well, do youse have a place to stay?" Spot asked.

"No," was Clara's answer.

"Stay in Brooklyn, you'll just have to learn how to fight," he shrugged.

"Listen, I know how to fight, and I can hit any target with a slingshot, thank you very much," I jabbed him in the chest with my pointer finger. "But Brooklyn sounds fine."

"Really? Wow, nice find Race," Spot called over to the dark haired boy, who had wandered back to Clara's side. (Much to the delight of my friend) Soon, Jack and Spot were getting ready for bed. Jack pulled off his shirt.

"Do you mind?" he asked. I shook my head; it's no different than going to the beach. Both Jack and Spot slept on the floor, Racetrack left for another bunkroom, much to Clara's disappointment. It made me think of the line from Princess Bride, 'Wove, twu wove, will follow you forweva' I love the impressive bishop! I had just time travelled, and I was SUPER tired. So I laid my head on the pillow and welcomed sleep.

I woke up the next morning; the sun wasn't even up yet. It turns out Spot and Jack put us in a deserted room, no one had slept here for ages! It was filled with dust and cobwebs, nasty!

"Listen toots," Spot had already woken up. "Brooklyn is a total mess, if youse stay and help clean things up, den Ise'll make suah youse nevah sleep in da streets again," he offered.

"Sure, I'm good with cooking and cleaning," I said, shrugging. I knew Clara would want to stay in Manhattan with Racetrack. So I'd let her, I was going to the toughest borough in New York!

"So, youse is goin ta Brooklyn," Clara said in her accent.

"Yeah, where are you staying?" I asked.

"Here, with Racetrack," she sighed dreamily and looked out the door.

"Dork," I muttered under my breath and stood up, stretching. "Clara, I'll leave your clothes here, but I'm taking my bag," I said. I gutted her clothes from it, saving a 'good' outfit and a dressy skirt/blouse combo I knew fit me. I shouldered the bag, hugged Clara and headed to Brooklyn.

"So, youse got a boy back in Ohio?" Spot was pulling a 'Rico Suave' and I was having none of it.

"No," I said.

"Dat's good, cause there ain't no boys what are allowed to have goils in Brooklyn," Spot said, clicking his cane on the ground, I imitated him with my cane. His head snapped around, looking me up and down.

"How come youse is wearin da same thing Ise am?" he asked. I'm sure my green-blue eyes must be boring holes through his head.

"I don't know, it must have been a cosmic coincidence. I'm certainly not am impersonator, of course, I don't know who in their right mind would want to impersonate _you_," I said coldly. I was not falling for his crap.

"Bitter much?" he asked.

"No, I just know about guys like you, you say a bunch of nice things, wrap the poor victim around your finger, and leave. Of course, the girl is heartbroken and lonely, sometimes she never finds true love after that because you left her, and she still loves you," I explained. "Typical term used for guys like you? Womanizers," I said.

"Womanizer? Sounds about right," he said, smirking.

"When I get to Brooklyn, I am never talking to you again unless it's to get the dirty clothes. Understood?" I snapped.

"Suah thing toots," Spot smirked again, looking me up and down. I slapped him and angrily walked to the end of the bridge and into Brooklyn. I knew where I was going; I had been quizzed on these directions by Clara basically every time I came over. I think Spot was still standing near the end of the bridge with a red handprint across his shocked face, and then I ran. I ran until I saw the docks, I ran until I was at the door of the Brooklyn Lodging House, I ran to the empty room at the top of the stairs. I flung my bag against the wall and flopped onto the bed, crying.  
My parents, what were they going to think? Clara's parents, my dog, my friends, my soccer team, what were they going to think? We had vanished into thin air, back to 1899 and a bunch of boys I thought were pure fiction. Why did we time travel? Because of a nonsensical note in a hat tag! This was insane, but my family! My family…

"Toots?" Spot asked, walking in tentatively. Then he saw the tears running down my face and my shaking shoulders. He did something so shocking, I nearly exploded mentally: he sat down next to me and pulled me into his lap. He rocked me back and forth and hummed 'Danny Boy' until the tears stopped and I sat quivering in his arms.

"M-my name is J-Juliet, not t-t-toots," I said, my voice wavering.

"Juliet," he said slowly, despite my hatred, I liked it when he said my name. His accent slightly slurring it, it sounded like Jewel-ee-et.

"Spot," I said, he looked down, his hat casting a shadow across his nose. "I'm sorry; I got your shirt all wet."

"It's alright, I tink youse needed ta do dat, it's not like you can't wash it or sometin," he said, his 'tough, fearless, invincible leader' façade slipping a little as we sat there, staring at each other. I realized slowly that I was doing what I swore I'd never do, talking to Spot. _Crying_ in front of Spot Conlon, the arrogant leader of Brooklyn. I sat, thinking, then reached up and took his hat. His brown hair had blond highlights in it; this made me think of my description to Clara. His eyes squinted a little in confusion before I slipped the hat over my own wavy reddish hair and stood up, straightening my clothes. "I like your hair better than I like this hat," I said, flirting a little myself.

"I'll change into something more appropriate and get to work cleaning. Is there somewhere I can put my clothes?" I asked, spotting the chest in the corner. I emptied my bag onto the bed, pulling out the dressy outfit I had, and folded the black trousers, blue shirt, and white suspenders into the chest along with my hairbrush, deodorant, and toothbrush. I hid my modern clothes at the very bottom, out of the sight of prying eyes. I ushered Spot out of the room and changed into the dress, folding my 'Spot' clothes up and putting them in the chest as well. I sang 'Round and Round' quietly, thinking of what had just happened.

My outfit was a pale blue, a white blouse rested comfortable on my shoulders. The cuffs were rolled up to my elbows, and the skirt went down to my ankles. I still wore the black shoes that looked like the leaders. I walked out of the room, and attempted to locate Spot. I found him lounging in an armchair in the lobby, several other tough looking newsies gathered around him. I saw that he had changed into a dark blue shirt and he was telling the boys something, but when I walked in, all eyes shot up. The ones I looked at were an icy blue that looked like they had been tainted with molten silver, I almost stopped breathing. Spot saw my expression and sent me another smirk, and then turned to his boys, "Dis is our newest membah of da household. She's gonna keep us all clean and tidy, and cook. Her name's Shakespeare, Shake for short. Just call me Romeo," he smirked over to me, winking. I think my jaw dropped, he knew about my namesake? 'Romeo and Juliet' by William Shakespeare? And he had nicknamed me? Wow, what an interesting name.

"This is Spot Conlon, the most arrogant hot-headed boy to walk the dirty streets New York," I introduced him for good measure. The newsie's jaws dropped as well, no one talks to Spot Conlon like that and doesn't get a good soaking! Of course, Spot just sent me an angry glare and asked what I wanted in an annoyed tone.

"Cleaning supplies," I said curtly. Spot rose and sauntered to a rather abandoned looking closet. Inside was a mop, a broom, several empty pails and assorted scrub brushes, and some soap flakes. On a shelf above there was a small metal tub, a washboard, a wooden paddle for laundry, and some more soap. Three whole boxes of soap actually, it made me wonder how long it had been since this mad house was cleaned last. I decided to start upstairs and work my way down. I grabbed a pail, the mop, and a box of soap. I took a scrub brush and shoved it into the pail with the soap; I closed the closet and headed up the stairs.

Cold, all of the water here is cold. That's what I realized after taking a bath in a metal tub in the washroom. There weren't any newsies back yet, and I needed to be clean. I had spent yesterday washing every surface in this stinking Brooklyn Lodging House, no thanks to Spot, who had walked over my freshly washed floor in dirty shoes! That boy is going to be the end of me, I swear. It seems like my crying session yesterday never happened, he flirts, smirks, and acts just as stupid around me as he does around every girl in Brooklyn. I scrubbed my hair, and rinsed it out, pulling myself into a towel, glad to be warm. I heard the footsteps on the stairs and locked the door. I toweled off fast and threw my clothes on, glad to be clean. I pulled my damp hair into a loose pony tail and stepped out of the bathroom into a wall.

A tall newsie stood there, looking slightly shocked at the little girl staring up at him. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"S' no problem miss," he said.

"Call me Juliet," I said, completely forgetting my newsie name.

"Suah ting," he said, smiling and tipping his hat. "Me name's Roll."

"Well Roll, allow me to get out of your way," I slipped to the side, he passed me. I smiled, my first new friend here in this strange place. Now that I was clean, I might as well get started on that pile of laundry waiting for me in my room. I waited until Roll was done in the washroom and began carrying pail after pail of water into my room, halfway through my job, Spot got home from selling. He saw me resting, and took the two pails in his hands. Soon the washtub was full. "Thanks Spot," I said, smiling at him as I stirred in soap and the first load. Mainly Spot's and a couple of the 'more important' older newsies. Spot sat on the perfectly made bed and talked to me while I worked. I hung the clothes on the fire escape to dry, starting on the second load. By the time the fourth, and last, load was done, both my arms were ready to fall off. Spot sat on the bed, still talking about some girl he met selling yesterday.

"She's really pretty, got red-brown hair and green eyes, very Irish. Boy can she sing," Spot went on and on. I tuned him out, completely ignoring him. I began toting pails of dirty wash water back to the washroom drain, this time, Spot took one pail and I took the other. He was silenced about this stupid 'goil' when I walked into the boys' room. Clean clothes, hats, shoes, bedding and pillows…everywhere.

"Spot, I'll make the beds. If you can tell me what belongs to whom in this mess, I'll clean the entire room." He went around picking things up and laying them at the feet of the bunks. I picked up bedding, dusted it off, and tucked it into the bunks with military precision. I had learned to make beds at camp, and it came in really handy. I fluffed pillows, making sure everyone had one on their bunk. I took the identified items and set them at the foot of each bed, on the floor. I hung hats over wooden posts, and slingshots were set on pillows. When I surveyed my work, and was satisfied, I walked down to the kitchen. Spot followed silently, watching me. It was kind of unnerving, but still nice of him to help me. "Thanks Spot," I turned and pecked him on the cheek in a friendly way. He looked kind of shocked, and turned a strange shade of red…so he did like me…after only one day of knowing me? DON'T TRUST HIM! My brain screamed, _Love him,_ my heart whispered and I wasn't sure which one to listen to.

I walked into the small kitchen, I had cleaned it and sent boys to re-stock it yesterday, so today I got out potatoes, celery, carrots, peas, cabbage, and pumped water into a large pot. It was basically a cauldron, but I knew I'd need every drop with all these boys to feed. Silently, with Spot watching me, I made a gigantic pot of vegetable soup. I got out the freshly cleaned bowls and spoons and set them out on the counter, and then I sat, stirring and waiting for the boys to get home. Without warning, Spot came up behind me and gave me a hug. I stood there, the spoon in my hand, as Spot walked out of the kitchen with a, "Later Shake."

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**Okay, I hope this isn't a cliffy...I don't want it to be. I will be back in 12 days! Then I will update: I promise. I write faster the more reviews I get, so talk around to your friends...if I don't get 10 comments on this chapter, I'll leave it be. **

**Thanks, R&R! -Firefly Conlon, Queen of Brooklyn**

**R.I.P. Dominic Lucero aka Bumlets. God bless you!**


	2. Bad Spot

**Here you go, I'm back! I made some awesome friends...including the inspiration for the character Mafia. 'Ferdinand'. We performed the Tempest, and I was Miranda! WOOHOO! I got to 'fall in love' with my friend, 'Mafia'. It was funny in an awkward friendly way! So here is the next chapter, bear with me as I will be having a couple of crazy weeks up ahead where I may not have the gift of technology near me.**

**I changed a lot at the end, so if you don't want to read the beginning again, just skip to the last few paragraphs. I couldn't have them during the strike, because of what happens in Chapter 3: Better in the Bronx! Thanks!  
**

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Forty or so newsboys walked into the Lodging House, many of them with their noses in the air. They grabbed bowls and lined up; I served them one at a time. Each one murmured a 'Thank you,' and went to sit down. Spot was the last in line, he was holding two bowls.

"Spot, one bowl per person," I scolded.

"S' not for me," he said, looking down. I saw a rather shy newsie of about five. "Say hello Trinket."

"Hello," the little boy said, blushing and grabbing on to Spot's pants leg.

"Hello Trinket, my name is Shake, but you can call me Juli," I said smiling and lowering myself down to his eye level. "Don't be scared, I had a little brother." My voice caught, Alex…back at home wondering what happened to his older sister. Alex was my darling, the little boy that cuddled up to me on the couch to watch Peter Pan or Cinderella with me. I reached out my arms, and Trinket shot into them, throwing his thin arms around my neck and sighing.

"I like her Spot, can we keep her?" the little boy said softly as I stood, lifting him in my arms. He was light, too light. Spot chuckled and nodded, Trinket smiled. I took a bowl from Spot with one hand, ladling soup into it and handing it back. Spot nodded to me, and went to sit with his friends; Trinket and I ate in the kitchen.

"So Trinket, how old are you?" I asked.

"Five," I had guessed correctly.

"That's young to be a newsie, don't you think?" I asked.

"I sell with the older boys; Spot says I'm not allowed to be on my own yet. I don't like selling papes, all the older boys are mean, and they push me around," his little brown eyes teared up and I held him to me, my arms around his tiny shoulders.

"Don't worry, you can stay here with me during the day and be my assistant," I offered.

"Really?" he asked, smiling. He had two little cupid dimples on either side of his smile.

"Really," I smiled down at the little boy's shining face. He hopped down off of the counter and ran to tell Spot, who looked up at me and mouthed 'Thank you' I smiled and mouthed back 'I love kids' his eyebrows rose and I shrugged. After everyone was done, Trinket and I were doing dishes in the kitchen. Trinket was standing on a chair, elbow deep in suds. Spot walked in.

"Trinket, Ise gotta borrow Juli for a minute, will you be okay?" Spot asked, handing me a towel to dry my hands. I nodded a thank you.

"Okay," Trinket sounded disappointed. Spot lead me by the arm into another room off to the side.

"The boys are real grateful for everything youse have done, its real sweet of you. I just wanted to say thank you," Spot said. Did the high-and-mighty, cocky, arrogant, self-centered, womanizer, _Spot Conlon_ 'King of Brooklyn', just _thank me? _

"No problem. Btw, Trinket's staying home with me tomorrow, we have some floors to sweep and some food to cook/shop for," I said.

"B-t-w?" Spot asked.

"Oh yeah, it means 'By The Way'," I said, remembering that I couldn't use modern slang.

"Oh, sounds good. I'll leave some grocery money," Spot said.

"Nick already gave me my pay for everything I'd need," I said, referring to the Lodging House manager.

"Oh, alright then," he shrugged and left me standing there. I went back to find Trinket asleep next to the sink, a dish rag in his small hands. I took the rag, and dried him up. Hefting him into my arms, I began to climb the stairs. I took him into the bunkroom and set him in his bunk, (Which he had pointed out to me proudly while the boys were eating) covering him up with the thin sheet. I took his hat off and removed his wool vest and shoes and socks, leaving them on the floor by his bed. I did what I used to do with Alex every night, I leaned over and kissing the small boy on the forehead. I sang softly,

_I was moving at the speed of sound_

_Head spinning couldn't find my way around_

_Didn't know that I was going down, yeah, yeah_

_Were I've been is what it's all about_

_What I was looking for I'm not sure _

_Too late and didn't see it coming_

_Then I crashed into you, and I went up in flames_

_Could have been the death of me _

_But then you breathed your breath in me_

_Yeah I crashed into you, like a runaway train_

_It will consume me, but I can't walk away_

_Your face, your eyes, they're burned into me_

_Somehow I couldn't stop myself_

_I just wanted to know how it felt_

_But too strong and I couldn't hold on, yeah, yeah_

_Not I'm trying to make some sense_

_Out of how and why this happened_

_Where we're headed there's just no knowing, yeah, yeah_

_Then I crashed into you, and I went up in flames_

_Could have been the death of me _

_But then you breathed your breath in me_

_Yeah I crashed into you, like a runaway train_

_It will consume me, but I can't walk away_

_Your face, your eyes, are burned into me_

I thought of Spot's eyes, then shook the thought away and continued to sing softly, forgetting that this was a rock song by Daughtry. I turned it into a sort of lullaby.

_You saved me; you gave me all that I need_

Again, Spot popped up in this song! Was this some sort of spiritual message?

_Just what I need_

_And Then I crashed into you, and I went up in flames_

_Could have been the death of me _

_But then you breathed your breath in me_

_Yeah I crashed into you, like a runaway train_

_It will consume me, but I can't walk away_

_Yeah, then I crashed into you, crashed into you_

I heard someone at the door, and looked up from the face of the sleeping boy.

"Youse got a real pretty voice Shake," Spot said. "Come downstairs and meet da boys," he nodded out the door. I stepped forward, looking back over my shoulder at the peaceful Trinket.

"So, youse had a brudda, why'd you leave?" Spot asked.

"B-b-because I had no choice. It was an accident, that stupid note," I broke down in Spot's arms for the second time in two days. _Pull yourself together Juliet Elizabeth Parker!_ I scolded myself, pulling myself to my full height of 5'7. I stood an inch or so shorter than Spot, just enough that I had to look _up_ to see his face. Just short enough so that my head fit just right under his chin…_No, no, no, this is Spot Conlon…you know how you feel about him!_ _And that's not how, now suck it up and go downstairs_ I dried my tears and gallantly walked towards the stairs. Spot looked a bit confused and concerned but followed me to the top of the staircase that led to the lobby.

Spot took out his cane and rapped three times, every head swiveled towards us. "This heah is Shakespeare, Shake foah short. She's da new housekeeper, she is also to be respected and listened to," Spot said this, staring down the group. I wondered how this lithe, yet muscular boy became the leader of this rowdy bunch. "If I heah dat any of youse was rude or didn't obey dis goil heah, youse'll get a poisonal (personal) soakin by yoahs truly." All the newsies in the room below nodded in silent agreement, except a very greasy looking boy I didn't trust at all.

"Spot, who is that?" I asked, pointing him out after everyone returned to their business and Spot and I walked into the group.

"Weasel," Spot said, "Neva trust him, and I only have him in Brooklyn to keep an eye on him."

"That's nice to know," I said, I realized with a start that Spot had his arm around my waist. _He's showing these boys that I am _his _and not to be messed with._ I shrugged his arm off and introduced myself to Roll's friends. "My name is Shake," I said. The boys spit into their hands and offered them to me; I spit into my palm and offered it to them. We shook good naturedly, Spot smiling his approval at my actions. The fearless leader meandered off, and I began getting to know the boys. By the time I decided to get some sleep, I knew everyone by name. What a night.

SPOT'S POV

"She's a looker she is," I heard the voice of Roll.

"Yeah, nice too," Split said.

"But she's _Spot's_, you saw his arm around her waist didn't you," Hobble said.

"That don't mean nothing," Roll said, "He does that to goils at Gilly's all the time."

"Good point, you goin for it Roll?" Split asked, chuckling.

"I don't see why not," Roll answered.

"Good luck, she looked quite taken with Spot," _she did? _

"Yeah right, she looked uncomfortable with his arm around her like that, like she wanted the earth to swallow her," Roll said. "Spot should just back off, she deserves so much better than him."

I didn't know much about the strange girl. I had found her lying on the streets of Manhattan in the middle of the night, and haphazardly invited her to Brooklyn on a whim. She had taken care of the house and the boys so well so far, but she had this shell. Something was unnatural about her; she had an invisible barrier that kept her true emotions from the rest of the world. To everyone else she was happy, smiling, caring Shake; but to me she was a puzzle piece with no puzzle to belong to. She seemed so carefree and joyous on the outside, but I could see the hurt bleeding through. Something happened that she wasn't being truthful about, something I wanted to know. She talked about a note, a family. So she was a runaway from Ohio…seemingly innocent story. Was she running _from_ something? Hiding? Waiting for someone? Was she in danger? After only a couple days, I felt her blending into Brooklyn, winding herself through the hearts of many newsies. Trinket, and several younger newsies looked up to her like a mother, Hobble, Split and Roll all liked her personality.

What about me? How did I think of the stranger in my home? It was new to me, to feel so uncertain about someone. She was a mystery, a being shrouded in questions and secrets. I didn't like that about her. I do like her, the problem is, how _much_ do I like her. She hates my guts, but I don't want her to. I think I like Shake a little more than I should after only a couple of days. This could be problematic…

JULIET'S POV

For the past two nights, I sobbed silently into my pillow. I missed Alex, my mom and dad, even Clara's Friday night Newsie a thon! My new friends didn't notice my sadness, I hid it so well under a frail shelter of happiness. Inside I was heartbroken, caring for Trinket and Marbles were my only good times.

I woke up and headed downstairs to start making coffee. I floated around the kitchen, thinking about what exactly I should make for dinner. Stew, beef stew with celery and carrots. Looks like I had some shopping to do this afternoon. After the coffee was brewing on the small stove, I went to wake the boys. I took a frying pan up the stairs with me; reaching for Spot's ever-present cane I hit the pan again and again. The sound resonated through the house as several alarmed boys jumped out of their beds, fully awake. Spot pulled himself up, reaching to retrieve his cane from my unwilling hand. "Youse crazy Shake," he slurred sleepily.

"Yeah, you didn't already know that?" I said, chuckling as the boys shuffled to the washroom.

"Spot, I have a deal to make with you," I said, sitting on the edge of his small cot.

"Yeah," he motioned for me to continue.

"I'll stay here, and I'll do the dirty work. But I won't do it for dirty boys, you either all bathe within the next three days, or I pack it up and head for 'Hattan!" I proclaimed.

"Suah, but dey won't be too happy about dat," Spot shook his head, clearing the hair from his eyes.

"Do I care? No," I said, stretching as I stood. I walked nonchalantly back to the kitchen to serve coffee and get Trinket and I breakfast. When I entered the small room, I saw an unfamiliar newsie standing by the counter. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Da name is Mafia, Ise is Spot's right hand man," he offered me his hand, "Youse must be da new housekeepa, Shake."

"At your service," I curtsied playfully as he mock bowed. "Would you like some coffee Mafia?" I asked, reaching for a mug for myself.

"Suah ting," he said, reaching for another. I poured us both coffee and we chatted about the weather, selling spots, and the younger children. As we talked, I took everything about him in. He was pale, and wiry; which was unusual for a newsie. He had blond hair that was nearly light enough to be off-white, but was still tinted a slight yellow. He had large, round, hazel eyes that were almost brown…and he had a very wide smile. His face was very expressive, and he widened his eyes when he was saying something important. I chuckled to myself thinking about my acting teacher, who had the same habits. Mafia smiled, "Whatcha tinkin about Shake?" he asked.

"Nothing, I was just reminiscing. You can call me Juli ya know. So Mafia, did you have any siblings?" I asked.

"Nope, only child," was his too short answer.

"Oh. I had a five year old brother, Alex. My little dear," I sighed. Mafia's face screwed up into a half-grimace.  
"It's alright, youse got Trinket, Marbles, Drifter, and Shots. Dey love youse like a mudda," Mafia put his arm around my shoulder, and pulled me into a hug. I let my head rest on his shoulder, it felt good to be embraced, even by this strange boy of sixteen. I just needed someone to give me a bear hug, and Spot was not the one to do it. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…

"What are youse doin Mafia?" Spot asked, looking into the kitchen.

"Juli was upset, so I was given her a hug," Mafia released me. "That ain't a bad ting."

"_Juli _needed a _hug? _Next time, tink again Mafia," Spot said, entering the kitchen and reaching for a mug. Did that stupid, stuck-up jerk just order around my new friend without reason? I don't _think_ so!

"I needed the comfort Spot, since the halfhearted King of the Morons was busy being self-important. At least someone around here has manners Conlon, you should take lessons," I fumed, stomping out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room.

I grabbed my shopping basket from my room and went to gather Trinket and the money for groceries. I saw Mafia and Spot still in the kitchen; I darted in, kissed Mafia on the cheek and darted out. Spot looked like I had slapped him and Mafia had this little half-smile on his face. Trinket giggled and scrunched up his nose is feigned disgust. I strutted out of that lodging house, my head held high. I did the shopping efficiently, seeing a few friendly Brooklynites along the way. Trinket would ask and plead for candies, but I refused, telling him I was making a special treat. With some of the money I had earned myself, my paycheck of sorts, I bought the ingredients for sugar cookies.

When I returned to the lodging house, it was empty (Thank goodness). I cleaned the oven out and instructed Trinket on making sugar cookies. We giggled like little children and made a total mess of the once-sparkling kitchen. When the cookies were happily browning, I cleaned the counters and floors. Trinket had fallen asleep, and I had laid him down on the threadbare couch. Soon, boys started filing in; I served a bowl of stew with a sugar cookie. The rough-and-tumble boys looked at me with expressions of mixed shock and thanks. Some of them looked nervously towards the door, probably awaiting the arrival of Spot. It wasn't long until the lithe boy slunk in the door.

"Juli, Ise gotta talk ta youse," he lowered his voice as he pulled me backwards towards the kitchen.

"Yes Spot?" I chirped.

"Don't go wastin money on cookies foah dese boys, dey is tough, dey don't need cookies," he was almost snarling.

"Spot, everyone needs coddling sometimes. Besides-"

"It don't matta," he said, "We can't afford it!"

"Spot-"

"Juli, don't go spendin money wit out talkin ta me about it foist," he interrupted a second time. This just pushed me over the edge. He can be cocky, stuck-up, mean, and pick on Mafia, but this is just too much.

"I bought the cookie supplies with my own money _Spot_," I spat his name. "So if you want, I'll pack my bags and head to Manhattan, I'm sure they would love me to make them cookies!"

"Juli, Ise-"

"_Ise_ don't care Conlon, get an attitude adjustment or sod off!" I shouted, not caring who heard me. This time I interrupted him. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, and shook his head disbelievingly.

"Ise sorry Shake," with that he left the room, tail between his legs. I had finally managed to achieve my mission, telling off that cocky jerk.

I scrubbed the dishes in angry silence, having tucked the still sleeping Trinket into bed. My mind raced with thoughts I didn't want. _How are you going to get home? Why is Spot acting like this? How is Clara doing? What's going on?_

My questions would be answered very soon.

* * *

The next day was hot, so hot, that the boys of Brooklyn congregated at the docks for a swim. Spot sat upon his perch, looking out over the river in contemplation. I sat on a a nearby crate, sewing a ripped vest that belonged to Hobble. Suddenly I was grabbed from behind, causing me to shriek and drop my sewing onto the crate beside me. "Heya Juli," Clara's voice hid a laugh.

"Hey Clara, what's up?" I asked.

"I figured out what's going on," she smiled triumphantly.

"So did the strike happen yet?" I asked.

"Yeah, about a month ago, why?" she asked.

"Cause I hate this movie, and I didn't want to have to deal with it," I said irritably.

"Movie?" Clara asked. _Well duh, we're in it stupid,_ was my first thought.

"Newsies," I said.

"Umm, I am a newsie, and so are you...more or less," she paused, "But there isn't a movie about us. The moving pictures are all just train wrecks so far, nothing good." she complained, looking slightly confused.

"Clara, you're scaring me," I stood and took a step back, Clara grasped my wrist.

"Juli, I keep having strange dreams, about wearing strange and colorful clothes. In these dreams I'm in a world where there are large brightly colored pictures that move, you were there too. There is a building filled with bright light and kids like us, wearing the same clothes as us. Juli, what's wrong with me?" she hugged me after her recount. _She's thinking about school..._

"Clara, that's where we're from, the future, remember the hat and the note?" I asked frantically.

"Juli, I can't remember anymore," Clara looked at me, her blue eyes wide with fright. I tried to remember what my parents looked like, what my soccer team was called. What exactly soccer was...

"Clara, I can't remember either!" I cried.

_What's happening?

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_

**I love you guys, thanks for all the marvelous reveiws! X-Scree Scree-X, Christina Conlon, Austra...thanks. **

**A shout out to Raine Of Roses: Fanfiction buddies forever! **

**'Mafia': DONNA TALK ABOUT DA FAMILY!**

**Camp peeps: I will miss you so much!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies.**

**Claimer: I do own Clara, Juliet, Mafia, Trinket, Hobble, Roll, Split, Marbles, Drifter, and Shots. **


	3. Better in the Bronx

**It's a little rushed, and kinda SUPER short. I'm afraid that's how the next couple of chapters are going to be. I have a project for school (MY ENGLISH TEACHER GAVE US SUMMER HOMEWORK! JERK!), camping (UGH), and some other stuff. My chapters are going to be a little farther apart, and probably kinda short...bear with me, once school starts they will be longer. Short and detailed, then longer and still detailed. This one may seem a little rushed, but it's cause I'm trying to get a plot change started, work with me people. Thank you, and without further ado...**

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Ever since I chewed Spot out a few days ago, he's stayed away from me unless it's to ask for his clean laundry. All the boys have bathed, and the house has remained pretty clean. Roll has tried to sweet talk me into going to dinner with him, but I was having none of it. Boys are like purses: cute, full of crap, and easy to replace. I just didn't want a boyfriend, and if I did. _Well, it would have to be Spot, but since that's never gonna happen. I might as well just ignore them all in general, besides my little darlings._

Clara had spent the night last night, and left this morning. After an investigation, my clothes from 2010 had disappeared along with my IPod, but my clothes from this time period remained in the chest, folded neatly. It was utterly confusing, and terrifying to know we were forgetting what we wanted to remember most. I didn't remember what my little brother looked like, only his name, Alex. My parents were the first thing to go, followed by soccer, then the dog, then the house, then Alex...it hurt. I was probably never going to see them again, and my mind raced with hatred towards the Brooklyn leader. I know I didn't have a reason, but I blamed this on him. I just needed something to vent my anger at, and he fit the bill.

Fortunately for my friend, Clara and Race were getting along swell, and from what I heard, she'd won quite a sum at the horse races at Sheepshead. Race and Clara were officially 'together'.  
Today, after finishing cleaning the bathrooms (my least favorite job), Spot offered to take me to lunch at Gilly's. I, on a whim, accepted. "So toots," he said once we had ordered, "Youse finally gonna admit youse is in love wit me?" he asked. He threw his arm over my shoulder, every inch the arrogant leader. I knew he was only doing this because several of his newsies were here, including a ticked off Roll, and an amused Hobble.  
"I will never be in love with you Spot," I said calmly. "I don't even like you."  
"Really dollface?" he asked, leaning over to kiss me. _This is the last straw. He can make me clean, he can tease Mafia, he can push the boys around and treat them poorly, but this is enough. I will not be taken advantage of for the sake of his stupid reputation!_ Without really registering what I was doing, I raised my hand and brought it down hard across his stunned face. He gasped in pain and shock, falling to the floor. Hobble looked shocked, Roll burst into laughter, and several others just stood there staring while I ran out of the restaurant and into the street. I ran, not caring where I was going or who I ran into along the way. I just ran.  
Blindly I ran, this was my natural defense to panic or anger: Running. After my legs began to give out from under me and my breath came in ragged pants, I stopped. My hands rested on my knees as I was bent over in two from exhaustion. Looking around, I realized I had no idea where I was. Behind me was an alleyway, in front of me was a drab gray building marked, "Bronx Lodging House." _I ran all the way to Bronx?_ I walked up to the door and knocked. This wasn't very sane of me, knowing that Bronx and Brooklyn weren't on the best terms.

"Hello?" I peeked inside the dark room, a few shady boys were playing poker, and others were chatting around a table. They looked up at me suspiciously, a tall boy with a scar on his cheek came over to me, his stride was casual, yet his eyes were intimidating.

"Who are youse?" he asked. His breath was rancid, but I didn't care.

"Shakespeare," I said, my voice sounding braver than I felt.

"From Brooklyn? Spot's goil?" the tall boy laughed. "Boys, we'se got a pretty prize right heah."

"What? I'm not his girl, I hate him!" I said angrily. My mind lapsed to the scene I must have left at Gilly's.

"Dat's not what he said at Gilly's da oddah night," the boy smirked. _What was Bronx doing on Brooklyn's territory? Oh yeah, Birds! Little boys the leaders used to spy on each other._

"Really? Well, if I had the chance, I'd never go back to Brooklyn again, stupid cocky Spot." I muttered.

"You can stay heah," the boy offered. _Seriously? He just met me!_

"I can? Wait, do you promise not to harm me?" I said, narrowing my eyes.

"Why would we? You being heah is a miracle of sorts, wit out someone ta brag about, Spot'll be miserable," he laughed, "My name is Indy." He pointed to the boys around the table, "Dats Mouse, Kettle, Slippery, and my goil, Angel." The petite redhead smiled shyly and waved to me. _This was too good to be true!_

"Thanks for letting me stay here, I really didn't want to go back," I said. _The only thing I'll be missing is Trinket and the boys, but I can visit them selling,_ I thought. It was an amazing arrangement at the last second. Little did I know what Indy was really planning…

INDY'S POV

Spot Conlon's pride and joy waltzed into Bronx and wanted to stay? _This was too good to be true!_ Revenge at last. Spot continuously soaked my boys with little reason, and he was a bully in general. I wanted him to pay, beside the point: He's stolen my girl a few years ago. I was ready to kill! (I had Angel back now, but it still hurt to know he'd kidnapped her. You thought I was talking about taking her, as in flirting her into leaving me? No, he actually kidnapped her!)

"Well, I need to get some things from Brooklyn, I'll be right back," she said, turning. _Not so fast_.

"What do you need? I'll send Mouse for them," I motioned for the boy to stand.  
"My clothes," she shrugged. "But Spot might fight him." _She was concerned for my newsies? Complete strangers to her? Spot was right about her personality!_

"Alright, go get her clothes foah her, and don't get soaked," I warned.

"Suah ting boss," Mouse ran outside, heading towards Brooklyn.

"He'll be suah ta get yoah tings," I said, smoothly. Angel came over, looping her arm through mine and pulling me to sit next to her on a chair.

"Come join us," she called to Shakespeare. _Shakespeare, that's a mouthful!_

"Yoah name is awful long," I said to the thin brunette.

"Just call me Shake," she said with a smile.

"Your hair is so pretty and long," Angel purred.

"Thanks, it took years to get it like this," Shake blushed at the compliment. We spent the afternoon talking, playing cards, and eating some delicious soup Shake made from the vegetables in the kitchen.

"It's nice to see that someone keeps their kitchen stocked," she said.

"We used ta have a housekeepah, but she quit, she was getting too old," I said offhand. Shake's eyes lit up.

"If you will pay me a nickel a day, I will be your housekeeper," she said, "I clean bathrooms, do laundry, cook, dust, everything! I was Brooklyn's housekeeper up until today," she said.

"Really? Only a nickel? Suah ting toots," I smiled back.

"Thanks, I'll start tomorrow morning," she looked at me sideways, "Is that okay with you?"

"Why not?" I asked, confused.

"Spot had me start on the first day I came to New York," she huffed, "It's nice to meet people with manners."

"Wow," Angel's mouth formed a cute little 'O'. I leaned over and planted a kiss on her rosy cheek.

"Yeah, he's not very nice to anyone!" Shake vented. It was then that Mouse re-entered with a carpet bag, and a bruise on his cheek. Shake stood and ran into the kitchen. She returned with a rag and a cup of water. She wet the rag, and held the water gently to Mouse's bruise, her face puckered in an apologetic frown.

"I'm so sorry Mouse," she said softy.

"It's fine, Spot's a jerk anyhow," Mouse blushed at Shake reduced the shiner to a dull yellow bruise with her nursing. _The girl has some useful skills, no wonder Spot wants to keep her so badly. _

"It's all my fault, maybe I should go back," she turned.

"After Mouse went through all that trouble and you agreed to be our new housekeeper? I don't think so," I smiled at her. She seemed rather flustered and laughed.

"Thanks Indy, you're so nice," she returned the cup and rag to the kitchen, "Your kitchen is so clean," she smiled.

"Yeah, we still cook in there sometime," I said offhandedly.

"You mean _I _cook in there sometimes," Angel smacked me playfully on the arm.

"Whatevah," I smiled at my girlfriend. Conlon was gonna pay.

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**Reviews make me smile and write faster! Thanks for the patience. Hopefully chapter four will be longer, MUCH LONGER! **

**Christina Conlon, elizabethbennet3553, Ariel, Mafioso, Austra, Angel In The Morning, Christopher Scott, thanks for all the suport. (And all the others I didn't mention)  
**


	4. A Tragedy For A Reason

**My characters are kind of rushed, but I did what I had to before going camping (again) this coming week. I'll be working on chapter 5 while I'm gone though, so don't worry it is coming! INDIVIDUALLY TOGETHER...You must update or make me cry! Thanks doll, TFIC must ALSO update, thank you! "/" Firefly**

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Bronx was nice; Angel and I got along great and took turns picking what was for dinner. It had been over a week, with no hassle from Brooklyn (surprisingly). Indy was kind and a great companion, Mouse and Kettle were also very interesting people to be around. Mouse got his name from the fact that he could sneak around almost unnoticed, and Kettle's name was an inside joke I wasn't privileged enough to know about yet. I cleaned up their house, did laundry, and made beds. The boys here were always careful to use their manners, 'Please' when they needed something, and 'Thank you' if they got it. Over all, their manners topped Brooklyn's with flying colors. It wasn't until my twelfth day in Bronx that Indy's bad side would shine through and scare the living daylights out of me…

It was night time, and I was lying in bed, attempting to drift off. I heard something clicking against my window, someone was throwing pebbles. I walked over and peered out into the alleyway below, it was too dim to see anything. I opened my window a foot and stuck my head out, "Who is it?" I called.

"But soft, what light trou yondah window breaks. It is da east, an' Juliet is da sun!" a familiar Brooklyn accent called up to me, causing me to slam the window back into place. I turned and laid back down on the squeaky mattress, _the cheek and nerve of that boy! To leave me for nine days, without giving a crap, and suddenly show up spurting Shakespeare and expect me to come running back? Conceited much? _I was jarred from my thoughts as the window began to slide open from the outside, I gave a shriek.

The window stopped, taking the chance, I called for help from my new friends. I heard clanging metal outside, like someone was climbing up or down the fire escape quickly, there was a crack and then a groan. The groan was followed by a dull thudding sound, and dragging. Someone had been knocked out; who it was…I didn't have the attention span to find out. I just ran to the bunk room. "Kettle? Is everyone alright? What happened?" I asked hurriedly. He just took me in his arms, hugging me and reassuring me that Spot had been 'Taken care of' which at the time, I thought meant chased back to Brooklyn.

Waking up the next morning, I walked down the rickety stairs to make breakfast for the younger newsies and coffee for the older ones. I measured out the black powder, and poured water into the pot, waiting for it to whistle. I got out mugs and bowls, pulling some fruit from a nearby cupboard and cutting it into the bowls. I insisted that the boys get a healthy diet, it wasn't good to eat just hotdogs!

"Morning Shake," Angel chirped, skipping into the kitchen. I was glad that I wasn't the only morning person. After playing rock-paper-scissors over who got to wake up the boys, I waited for the herd to enter from the kitchen. Slowly, half-awake Bronx boys trickled in, pouring themselves coffee and chatting about the good selling lately. I heard a door somewhere open and close, followed by the entrance of Indy. He looked extremely happy for a Monday morning, but whatever floats your boat!

"G'morning doll," he pecked Angel on the cheek before telling all the boys to "Head out men!"

"Have a good day," he gave me a hug, and Angel received another kiss, and whispered instructions. I wasn't near enough to overhear what Indy told her, but her eyes grew wide, and she nodded her understanding.

"Have a good day Indy," I smiled, he touched the brim of his hat and left to sell his papes.

"What was that all about," I asked, Angel just shook her head.

"I have to feed Indy's new exotic pet, something he doesn't trust anyone else knowing about. Mouse already knows, he helped catch it, but I wouldn't go near it for the life of me!" her eyes grew wide as she wrung her hands fretfully.

"What exactly is it?" I asked.

"I'm not allowed to say," she muttered, heading upstairs to make the beds. I was on kitchen clean up duty. As I scrubbed the mugs, pots, and bowls, I whistled and thought about what Angel had said. _Exotic? How can a newsie afford something exotic? Why does he only trust Angel? Mouse helped to _catch_ it? I wonder what it is..._

Two days later, Angel and I were taking a lunch break in the front room, when a little boy I recognized darted in and looked around, frantic. "Trinket?" I dashed over and picked up the distraught boy in my arms.

"Sh-Sh-Shake," Trinket let unshed tears wet my shirt.

"What is it honey?" I asked, petting his unruly hair.

"Spot is," he looked up at me, fright filling his countenance. "Spot is gone!"

I looked over at Angel, who looked shocked, and then at Trinket, who was clinging to me pitifully. It must have meant a lot, if Trinket dared come into Bronx.

"How long has Spot been gone?" I asked.

"Two d-d-days," Trinket said. "Sometimes he's gone for a night, and sometimes we don't see him selling, but after no one seeing him for two whole days; Shots, Marbles, Drifter and I were sent to Bronx, Manhattan, Queens, and Harlem to look for him."

"Just go home, I'll send word if I see him," I said softly. I gave Trinket a kiss on his forehead and he dashed out into the street, back to his home. "Angel, is there something you need to tell me?" I asked the guilty looking redhead on my left.

"Yeah, there is," she stood slowly and led me to a locked door. She removed the key from a string around her neck, (Oh! The irony!) and unlocked it, opening it to the dark staircase downwards. I would bet money on what I thought I knew what was waiting down there...

SPOT'S POV

She. Slapped. Me. I can't believe it! I know I kinda deserved it, but after that she just ran! Ran, and kept running until she was past the Brooklyn limits and into Bronx, how did I know this? Birds.

I waited that night, hoping for the familiar brown hair to bob back in the door, ready to forgive me. She didn't come, or the night after that, or after that, after nine days I took it into my hands to go to Bronx and see her. I even memorized some of that weird poetry stuff she likes. I snuck out in the dark of night, finding myself, all too soon, under the window of Shakespeare. I threw some rocks at her window, hoping to bring her outside to the fire escape.

"Who is it?" her voice echoed through the dark alleyway.

"But soft, what light trou yondah window breaks. It is da east, an' Juliet is da sun!" I called up, waiting to hear her step onto the rusty metal platform. Nope, instead, she shut the window with an angry slam. _Great job Spotty-boy!_ I lamented. I climbed up until I was outside her window, and began to pull it open, she gave a shriek.

"Mouse! Indy! Help! It's Spot, he's trying to kidnap me!" she shouted loud enough to wake the dead. I looked in, she was clinging to the sheet on her mattress, looking out the window in terror. It hurt, to see that she was so frightened of me. Only the sounds of feet approaching the alley startled me enough for me to begin climbing down: fast! I landed gracefully, not making a sound. I turned to go back to the Brooklyn boundary line, when something hard hit the back of my head. I heard a laugh as I crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, a flash of white shot across my vision as my head hit the cobbles. Then it was black...

When I woke back up, my wrists were tied behind me to a metal rung attached to the wall, and something remotely resembling a bandana was tied around my mouth. _Great job, you got yourself kidnapped...just what you needed! And by Bronx too! How are you ever going to live this down? They'll rub it in your face until you become a man,_ I really wished I could stay sixteen forever. I could rule Brooklyn without having to get a real job, date as many girls as I wanted instead of getting married and having a family to take care of. Of course, after meeting Shake, that was less important to me. _She's the reason you're in this situation! _I argued with myself, being stubborn. _No, Spot Conlon, _you_ are the reason you're in this situation. If you hadn't have been a jerk at Gilly's, Shake would be safe in Brooklyn and so would you. You stupid cocky twit. _I just insulted myself, that's a first.

A light came from the top of a staircase, I twisted in my bonds, attempting to escape. Nope, they were really good at tying knots here. I slumped in defeat, waiting for the shadowed figure to come into the light. It was a girl, with red hair and green eyes. She looked absolutely terrified as she approached me with a tray in her hands, it wasn't until I saw it that I realized I was starving. She pulled the gag away from my mouth.

"Lemme guess, I'm in Bronx," I said. She just nodded, still petrified. "Listen, I can't hoit (hurt) youse, me hands is all tied up behind me. Ise promise Ise ain't gonna run away neither, that's just reflecting poorly on me honah!" I said. She just looked dumbstruck and set the tray down. She untied my hands, tying one of them to an iron rung in the wall again, above me this time, so she could see if I wriggled out. She looked like she thought I was going to bite her or something, yet I didn't even put up a fight. It's an unwritten rule established by leaders, if you get caught...you stay caught until someone rescues you or you get sent home in disgrace. I hoped that I would be sent home, rescue was something Spot Conlon doesn't handle well. (Unless he's the one doing the rescuing)

She handed me the tray and sat down on a crate some ways away. I ate the bread, and apple, and drank the water. I glimpsed at her once and a while whilst eating, her skirt reached her ankles and was rather plain. She wore the same kinds of clothes that Juli did...I mean Shake. Which reminds me...

"How's Shake doin?" I asked.

"Shakespeare? She's doing fine," the girl answered in a rush.

"Who are youse?" I asked.

"You don't remember?" she asked...then it hit me. Angel, Indy's girl. The one I kidnapped within my first year of being leader...not my smartest move.

"Yeah, now dat I tink about it, I do. Sorry about dat, kidnapping youse was real stupid of me," I apologized, offering her the empty tray. She looked far more comfortable around me now, seeing that I wasn't about to attack her or anytime soon. "Heah," I turned around, placing my hands behind my back for her. She looked shocked, and tied my hands the way they had been. She replaced the gag and walked upstairs. I heard Shake's voice.

"How's the pet?" she asked.

"Fine," Angel gave a chuckle. _Pet? Was that what I was? Not cool Indy, not telling me own goil dat youse kidnapped me! _That was bad form.

That was my routine for two more days, wake up, get fed, stare at the wall for hours. Get fed again, sleep some more, it was boring...until I realized I could hear the conversations going on upstairs. I listened as Shake talked of her likes and dislikes with Angel and Mouse. I listened to her laugh...something she hadn't done in Brooklyn. Wow, they treated her so much better here, they appreciated everything she did and let her know. She was right, I am a stuck up pig, and it's not every day Spot Conlon says something bad about himself. Although it was becoming more frequent.

Then one afternoon, I heard Trinket's voice from upstairs. _What is he doing in Bronx? Who was stupid enough to send the young ones looking for me? I'm gonna fire someone when I get back! Mafia seriously needs to be taught a lesson when it comes to child care. _

The lock clicked and I heard Angel's voice, "The leader of Brooklyn is in the basement. He's been there for two days, since you screamed for help about him on your balcony, I'm sorry Shake. It's just that Indy told me not to tell you because he had matters to settle with Conlon," I heard a set of rushed steps and one that was more laid back. Shake burst into the small, damp room and looked around. Did I mention it was pretty much pitch black in there? It was, she stumbled around blindly.

"Spot?" she called.

"Over here!" I called through the gag, so it sounded more like, "Ovheh"

"Spot!" she ran over, and ripped the gag out of my mouth. "Are you alright?" _was she concerned?_

"Yeah, Ise is fine? You?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm not tied up in the basement of the Bronx lodging house, I'm so sorry! If only I'd held in my temper at Gilly's," she sounded remorseful.

"Shake, you do know that Indy would have found some excuse to get me anyhow? It's not yoah fault, Ise should be da one 'pologizing foah being a jerk," I said. Shake just nodded and hugged me. It was rather awkward, seeing as my hands were still tied, so she just hugged my shoulders.

"GOILS?" I heard Indy's voice call from upstairs. Angel muttered a profanity under her breath and called up to him.

"One minute Indy darling!"

"Is Shake down there wit youse?" he sounded angry.

"Yes," Shake called up. "I snuck down after Angel. I wanted to see what was down here, now that I have, what are you planning on doing with him?"

"You'll see!" Indy stomped down the stairs. He untied my hands from the rung and shoved me toawrds the staircase, "Careful Conlon. Ise still got yoah goil," he whispered so that only I could hear him. The girls followed silently, Indy was fuming. "Conlon, youse is gonna get what youse desoive!" he ranted. "Foah stealing my Angel."

"So be it," I said calmly. Indy shoved me into a chair and tied my hands to either arm. He also shoved Shake roughly on a couch a few feet away.

"Don't move," he said, more to her than to me, seeing as I was tied to a chair and all. She sat stock still, not looking in my direction. Indy walked upstairs and gathered all his newsies. "May I present, the leadah of Brooklyn!" the newsies of Bronx all looked shocked, seeing me tied up in a chair in their lobby.

"Hello boys," I said, keeping my cool.

JULIET'S POV

Spot kept a cool demeanor as the boys circled around him, poking and prodding. Some of them even made rude jibes, "Looky heah, now we'se got 'im _and_ 'is goil!" or "We'se got da King and da Queen, it's a royal flush!" Spot remained locked within himself, showing no emotion. When Indy noticed none of this was riling the leader, he signaled for silence.

"Let the trial of Spot Conlon, kidnapper and terrible boyfriend," he made the snide comment in my dirention, "Begin."

This. Can. Not. Be. Good.

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**Thanks, review please! School's sneaking up fast, so beware! I wish it could be summer forever and I could just write fanfictions! Love you guys, "/"**


	5. Act 5, Scene 3

**Okay. Here it is, slightly rushed in my opinion...but last time I thought it was rushed I was proved wrong. Let's hope I'm proved wrong again! **

**Disclaimer: I (do)n't own Newsies (YET!) **

**I'm going camping AGAIN be back in 7 days. Until then...I will write in my everpresent notebook, to bring SOS chapter 2, and OOAH will get chapter 6! Thanks...see you in 7!**

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"Is this necessary?" I asked, looking anxiously at Spot.  
"Yes, he deserves whatever he's gonna get," Indy snarled, his lips curling into an angry grimace.

"Indy, I'm safe. Leave Spot be," Angel sat down next to me, her arms comfortingly around my shoulders.

"NO!" Indy shouted angrily. I winced.

"Jes leave me goil be," Spot said calmly.

"Who's yoah goil?" Indy sneered, "Ise don't see yoah goil, only two of _my _goils." _I am not Indy's girl!_  
"Shake, will youse be me goil?" Spot asked, twisting to look at me, his eyes pleading...Spot Conlon _never_ pleads!

"Yes," I realized with a start that these feelings of hatred were just walls I built to stop myself from truly falling for him. Too late. I deeply regretted calling for help the other night. My eyes suddenly felt moist.

"Shake's me goil," Spot said, still completely calm. _How did he keep this façade up? I knew that Spot must be scared, if only a little bit. _Then I recognized that fact that Spot Conlon wasn't the fearless leader he made himself out to be, he was just as scared, frustrated, sad, and _mortal_ as the rest of us. He just hid it so well behind a mask that could fool anyone. _Anyone but me,_ I added. Indy gathered his newsies in a semicircle around Spot. I stood to join them.

"Stay wheah youse is," he said darkly to Angel and I. Then he began his little charade. "Spot Conlon, self proclaimed King of Brooklyn, youse are being charged wit da kidnapping of Angel. Youse got ta say foah yoahself?" Indy asked.

"I am deeply apologetic foah kidnapping Angel all those yeahs ago, Ise sorry," Spot said.

"Really? Ise tink youse is lyin!" Indy snapped.

"Can't you see it's all in the past? It's fine, Indy, I'm here and I'm safe. I have been, it's been almost two years since that happened, and it's all over. Just _leave them be!_" Angel spoke up. She stood and stalked angrily over to Indy, who was at least seven inches taller than her.

"Ise love youse Angel and I just don't want dis ta happen again. If I make an example of Spot heah, den youse will be left alone," Indy was beyond furious.

"I haven't been given a second glance since two years ago, and even Spot says he's sorry, just let it go already," Angel said. Indy wasn't getting it through his head that _his _girl was speaking up for the enemy. I stood and joined Angel.

"Listen Indy, I love Spot. If you kill him you're killing me," my words surprised even myself. Spot smiled, despite the fact that his life was in danger and he was tied to a chair surrounded by angry Bronx boys. "You wanna kill your friend?" I asked.

"Suah," Indy shrugged and I slapped him. Hard. Harder than I'd slapped Spot. My hand print was splayed in red across Indy's face. He turned on me furiously, shoving me back against the wall. My head snapped back, connecting to the wood and sending me crumpling to the ground in agony.

"SHAKE!" Spot yelled, struggling to escape.

"Spot, I love you," I whispered as my world went from gray to black.

INDY'S POV

She just hit me, the good-for-nothing idiot. I shoved her against the wall, so hard that her head snapped back against the wood. She went limp in my grip and I let her fall to the ground with a moan of pain.

"SHAKE!" Spot called.

"Spot, I love you," I heard her whisper faintly. Her eyes closed, and she went completely lax.

"Indy! What did you do?" Angel was distraught. "If this is the way you treat girls, I'm leaving! I thought you were a good, kind hearted person, I was wrong," my girl hissed in my ear. Conlon was still struggling to get to Shake; I motioned for one of my boys to cut him loose. As soon as his arms were free, he was at her side. Her red-streaked brown hair fell into her face. Spot smoothed it away, picking her up bridal style, and walking towards the door.

"Where do youse tink youse is goin?" I asked. Two boys stepped in front of Spot, blocking his path to the door.

"Home, to take care of me goil," Spot said.

"Ise tink not," I said. I was still angry that Angel would side with them and not me.

"Ise wanna make suah she ain't hurt," Spot said.

"She's fine, Angel will take care of her," I said. Spot laid her down on the couch, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We have business to attend to."

"I thought we settled it," Spot said fiercely, looking down at Shake.

"Not quite yet, youse is gonna go, if it kills me," I said, flipping out my switchblade. Spot took a step back, his hands up as if in surrender. It was then that Shake moaned a little and opened her eyes. She saw Spot, and registered the fact I was holding a knife. Spot looked down at her and I made my move, running forward towards Spot, blade extended, aimed for his heart.

"NO!" Shake screeched, jumping in front of Spot. My blade hit her right shoulder. She screamed in pain, falling to the ground. She pulled out the blade, gasping in shock and hurt. Spot fell to his knees next to injured girl, a single tear leaking from his eye as he picked her up and ran from Bronx. I didn't stop him, turning to face my newsies.

"We won, Brooklyn paid," I crowed triumphantly. Angel kneed me in the gut, storming from the lodging house, heading the way Spot had gone. "Angel." I gasped.

"You deserved it, Shake was nice to us. Spot might have been your target, but you hurt our friend. Get out of this lodging house and don't come back!" Mouse said, his voice edging on insane anger. My boys all took threatening steps forwards, I stood and stared them down.

"You are making a big mistake," I said, regaining my breath.

"It was a mistake when we made you leader," Mouse said, taking another step forward. I left the lodging house, my held head high.

SPOT'S POV

Indy shoved Juliet back against a wall, her head making a scary cracking noise. She crumpled to the floor with a groan.

"SHAKE!" I pulled at the ropes restraining my wrists. Juliet whispered something, before her eyes closed and her shoulders went limp. Angel shouted something, and hissed something angrily at Indy. I was too panicked to hear her precise words, I was still struggling. One of the boys came over and cut the ropes; I darted to Juliet's side and wiped the hair out of her face. I lifted her thin frame in my arms, walking towards the door. Two bulky boys blocked my way.

"Where do youse tink youse is goin?" Indy asked.

"Home, to take care of me goil," I said.

"Ise tink not," he said.

"Ise wanna make suah she ain't hurt," I explained, looking down at her.

"She's fine, Angel will take care of her," Indy said. I laid her down on the couch, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We have business to attend to."

"I thought we settled it," I said protectively, looking down at Juli.

"Not quite yet, youse is gonna go, if it kills me," he said, flipping out a switchblade. I took a step back, my hands up in surrender. It was then that Juli moaned a little and opened her eyes. I looked down at her, her green eyes were wide with fright when she saw Indy's knife. It was out of my peripheral vision that I saw, as if in slow motion, Indy coming towards me. Juliet screeched, jumping in front of me. Indy's blade hit her right shoulder. She screamed in pain, falling to the ground. Slowly, Juliet pulled out the blade, gasping in shock and hurt. I fell to my knees next to injured girl, a single tear leaking from my eye as I picked her up and ran from Bronx, back to the safety of Brooklyn. Blood leaked out of the stab wound, staining both of our shirts. She looked up at me, her eyes moist, her voice was faint and wavered slightly.

"I'm sorry Spot," her head lolled back. This wasn't good. I stumbled up the steps of the Brooklyn Lodging House, the boys inside whooped when they saw me and Juliet

"Move! Can't you see Juliet is hurt?" I yelled. The boys instantly ran for a doctor, Manhattan, and bandages. I laid her down on my cot, ripping the sleeve of her shirt off, wrapping it around the area above the wound. This would prevent her precious blood from coming out too fast, until the doctor got here. It was then that the adrenaline stopped gushing through my system; I fell to my knees next to her bed.

"Don't die, you can't die! I love youse! Don't die on me Juliet, please. Ise so sorry dat I got youse stabbed, I'll stab myself, please live! Brooklyn needs you! _I_ need you!" I cried. _Spot Conlon doesn't cry!_ I hushed myself and let the tears fall silently. The doctor rushed in, breathless.

"You'll have to leave young man," he said, observing the location of the wound.

"Will she live?" I asked.

"Most likely, but you have to leave," the bent man shooed me out of the room. From inside I heard Juliet groan in pain, the doctor said something to her, and then she cried out. _I hope she's okay, she has to live! She has to! It's all my fault she's hurt...ugh. I feel so helpless! I just want to go in there and make it all better, so she's not in any pain at all!_ Over the course of two weeks, Juliet Parker had stolen my heart. In five terrifying minutes, the doctor came out of the room.

"She should be fine; she'll need lots of bed rest and good warm food. She should be fine after a couple of weeks," he patted my shoulder as he ambled out.

"Is Shake gonna live?" Trinket came into the room, tears filling his eyes.

"Yeah, kid," I said, walking towards the door. I stepped in and looked down at her tear streaked face, I knelt by the bedside.

"Did you mean what you said about needing me?" her voice was weak and raspy.

"Every woid," I smiled. I leaned down towards her, and for the first time: We kissed.

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**Individually Together, The Future is Calling, The King and I! I hope I see updates when I return, love you guys! "/"**


	6. Smiles and Angel

**Alright, here it is. The next chapter may be short on the coming because of school, but it will be posted. Thanks peeps! **

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Clara rushed into the room, her hair falling out of her hat in strands. "I ran here as soon as I heard! Are you alright!" my concerned friend asked.

"She sure did run all the way," a breathless Racetrack came in behind her. This made me laugh, then wince as my shoulder throbbed. Spot was flitting around the room getting things ready for the afternoon, setting out clean bandages and checking the cupboard for easily-accessible food.

"Nurse Spot?" I asked teasingly.

"Yeah Shake?" he was facing the washbasin in the corner.

"Come here, I need something," I smiled. This would be so much more exciting than just _telling_ Clara. Spot walked over and leaned down next to me.

"Yes?" he asked innocently.

"Just kiss me," I used my uninjured arm to pull his collar, he leaned over and planted a warm kiss to my lips. I got butterflies in my stomach and smiled as he stood up. "Maybe Clara can take care of me today, you need to sell. I can see you're getting restless in here with me, just go sell with Race. Clara will be my nurse today," I said reassuringly. Spot nodded and grabbed Race's sleeve, pulling him from the room. I think Race's chin was dragging on the ground as he let Spot lead him away.

"Really? Spot?" Clara asked, as if unimpressed.

"Yes, and he's a great kisser!" I smiled. She squealed and grabbed my good hand.

"I know, it must be a newsie thing," she raised her eyebrows.

"What do you mean….oh," I said. "Race is a good kisser huh? I bet he's not as good as Spot!" I argued.

"Whatever, I would place money on Race being better!"

"Boys will be boys," I laughed, "Won't you?" I called. The door creaked open a crack and two guilty faces peeped in.

"I bet I'm da bettah kissah," Race said sheepishly.

"No way, dat's Spot Conlon's territory!" Spot said.

"Get out of here! Go sell!" I shooed the boys away as Clara and I caught up.

"What's your newsie name again?" Clara asked.

"Shakespeare, Shake for short. Yours?" I asked.

"Smiles," she giggled. "Cause I couldn't stop smiling around Racetrack….so it led to my inevitable nickname."

"Fitting," I said.

"How _did_ you end up injured Juli?" she asked.

"It's a very long story," I sighed.

"We have all day," she helped me to a sitting position and I began my story. After finishing, she stared with an open mouth.

"That's why you weren't here that week, I came looking for you and Spot said you were gone," Clara said sadly. "I'm so sorry, what do you think about the issue with Bronx?"

"I don't know what to think," I sighed again as a timid knock came on the door. "Get it would you?" I asked. Clara walked over and opened it, standing there, looking rather lost, was Angel. "ANGEL!" I cried.

"Shake, how are you?" her voice was quiet.

"Okay, Spot called the doctor. Where have you been? Why are you here?" I rushed.

"I left Bronx, I warned Indy that I would leave him if he did something stupid, and you got hurt. So I left. They sent birds after me, but I didn't want t to go back, they even kicked Indy out. Mouse is the leader now," she said, her voice getting stronger.

"That's amazing," I shook my head. "Wait, won't Indy do something even stupider to get back at Spot again?" I asked.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Angel sighed and sat on a vacated chair.

"It's alright, you can stay here," I offered. Angel nodded.

"Thank you, I don't have anywhere else to go," Angel laughed quietly.

"I was with him for three years, and just now I realized I didn't love him at all," she laughed again.

"Life is strange," I said comfortingly. We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and eating some of the food Spot left us. Soon, the boys, driven by paranoia, returned.

"Angel?" Spot said.

"Yeah, Indy got kicked out of Bronx," I said. Spot went pale.  
"We gotta get you somewhere safe! Race, I need your help! We need to get food, medical supplies, and some cots to the secret room," Spot said hurriedly.

"Alright," Race started carrying things and so did Spot and the girls.  
"Don't you think this is overreacting?" I asked.

"Nope," was the unanimous answer.

"You saw what he did last time right? You're injured badly, Indy will kill someone for his freaky little issues," Spot sad. Angel agreed. After they were done freaking out about things Indy would do as I was carried to a secret room in the basement. Wow, Spot had his own little city in this building!

"Alright, now, how are we supposed to handle this situation?" I asked.

"I have no idea whatsoever," Angel said.

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**Please, please, please, review! Thanks! Please!**


	7. Pokerface

**Here we go, the seventh instalment to Out Of A Hat...happy me. **

**Please reveiw, it makes my day.**

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"Guys, seriously stop pacing!" I ranted. Spot and Angel had been pacing the floor back and forth for the past half hour. I was really starting to get a headache.

"Sorry Shake," Spot said, turning to sit on the chair by my bedside.

"Listen, I have an idea," I said. "Indy expects us to go on lockdown right?"

"Probably, he knows we're scared," Angel turned to face me. "Why?"

"Beat him at his own game! Be as open as possible, but always be alert! During the day, sell in groups of two or three. Instead of being on lockdown all day, the Indy won't have the chance to attack. The little boys will stay home with me, and stay in the secret room during the night. Make sure to lock all the doors and windows!" I explained my plan. If we all stay inside all the time and act paranoid he'll hit and kill and no one would have any defense.

"That is a really smart idea!" Spot exclaimed. "I'll tell the boys; of course the young ones will be so happy to be with you all day!"

"See?" I said almost smugly, in this situation. Spot left to sell with Mafia and I decided to spend a day in Manhattan now that I was feeling better. I packed my 'nice' clothes just in case and dressed in my Spot-wear. My shoulder didn't hurt much at all, and the wound had begun healing well. "Angel, will you watch the young ones for me today? I'm going to Manhattan, be back in a few hours," I said.

"Of course," she smiled and pulled Drifter onto her lap. "I'll be sure to let Spot know! Who's your escort?" she asked.

"Roll, he wouldn't let anyone else, and Spot's selling so…" I wandered off. Roll had some serious obsession issues, but he was my first friend. A good friend too. So he walked me across the Brooklyn Bridge in broad daylight, without issue. When I arrived at the Manhattan lodging house, the boys were panicked and running around the room getting different things. Racetrack ran upstairs with a roll of bandages, Blink was getting water, and Jack was wringing his hands: wanting to do something but not knowing what.

"What happened?" I asked Crutchy.

"Race found a goil in an alleyway; all beat up and unconscious. So he brought her back, she's awake and we're taking care of her, her name is Poker, or so she says," Crutchy was the only calm one in the room.

"BOYS!" I shouted, knowing how Poker felt. They turned to me and stopped what they were doing. "Blink, take cold water up to her, but not too much. Race, cut the bandages into arm length strips for deep wounds. Jack, get David and get him over here, I need to talk to him okay? I'm going up to be a nurse, all other boys STAY HERE!" I ordered and walked upstairs.

"Hello, who are you?" a girl asked as I walked in. She was lying on Races' bed, bruised and banged up but not bleeding. Good.

"I'm Shake, Brooklyn's girl," I smiled.

"Can you do more help than these useless males?" she asked, I laughed.

"Yes, boys, get out," I ordered them. They looked at the girl then to me, then left. "What happened?"

"Another group of stupid males decided that I was good looking. When I refused to 'accompany' them to a local pub, they decided I wasn't worth it and beat me up. Good thing Race found me," she sighed and leaned against the pillows.

"It sure is," I stopped some swelling and double checked for cracked or broken bones, nothing too bad. "Do you know any newsies?"

"Yeah, he's from Brooklyn too, Mafia is my cousin," I widened my eyes.

"Spot's second in command," I smiled.

"You know him?" she asked.

"Yeah, Spot is my boyfriend," I smiled again.

"That's cool, Mafia mentioned the fact he had a new girl, and that she was smart and nice. He sure was right!" She laughed, cringed and flung her head back.

"You'll be fine by morning, only minor bruising," I gave my diagnosis to Race. Jack and David entered and went directly upstairs, I followed them, wanting to give Jack instructions just in case. When I entered the room, David and Poker were looking at each other dumbstruck.

"H-h-hi," David stuttered out. Pokers ear-length hair fell into her hazel eyes and she pushed it back quickly, still staring at David.

"Hey, my name is Poker," she was much less shocked.

"My name is David," the redhead blushed and held his hand out.

"Nice to meet you," they shook.

"Alright love birds; let's get this show on the road!" Jack said impatiently.

"She's gonna need someone to stay by her for the rest of the day in case of brain damage," I said in a warning tone.

"I'll stay," David practically shouted. Jack shook his head and left by himself. I quitted the lodging house with Roll, smiling inwardly at David and Poker. _That was fast. Love at first sight, far from Spot and I!_

"So, you available-"Roll started.

"Spot," I said. He silenced himself as we came across Spot and Mafia.

"Heya Shake," Mafia said.

"Hey Mafia, how's the headline?" I asked.

"Bad," Spot interrupted. "Indy attempted to soak three different groups of newsies today! He is so desperate," Spot ran a hand through his hair.

"Desperation is his weakness, call the bulls and arrange an ambush," I said.

"How?" he asked.

"Tell the bulls a dangerous criminal is looking for revenge and to meet you at Main and Delancy at noon. Then, once they are in place and out of sight, Mafia will leave you alone. Indy might take the chance and attack you, and then you can call the bulls out and bang," I laughed. "No more Indy problems."

"You really should apply at Pinkerton darling," Spot said.

"I know, but then I wouldn't be able to be a newsie," I said teasingly as Spot lead me back to the Brooklyn lodging house.

"Mafia, go get the bulls and let them know about our little plan would you?" Spot asked.

"Why should _I_?" Mafia asked, almost like a whiney child.

"Because, _you_ don't have a criminal record," Spot said and chuckled at my shocked expression.

"I need new friends," I said.

"I'll lock you in the secret room," Spot said with mock seriousness.

"I'll escape," I snapped his red suspender, and he in turn snapped my matching one. We looked each other up and down, realizing we were wearing the same thing again, and laughed. Suddenly people on the street would buy a pape from each of us and compliment our 'twins' act. Which we weren't even trying to pull off. We had sold every pape by the time we returned home. I told them about Poker and David and they all laughed, especially Mafia.

"That's Poker for ya," he said. "She deserves some romance," he sighed.  
"Why?" Spot asked, pulling me onto his lap.

"She had a loving family as a child, before the factory accident that killed her parents. She has been in and out of jobs and refuges all around New York. I didn't know she was back," Mafia leaned back into the couch with a sigh.

"Don't you have a mission?" Spot asked.

"Oh, right," Mafia leapt off the couch and ran out the door.

"Spot," I turned worriedly.

"What?" he asked, nonchalant.

"Mafia left without a partner," I said, frantic.

"Mafia wait!" Spot followed him out. Leaving me with Angel and the children for the afternoon. When they returned, Spot smirked.

"Mission accomplished."

* * *

**Brennaberr: I am SO HAPPY that you've reviewed so many times.**

**Christina Conlon, NEWSIES SISTAH'S UNITE! I learned the 'Seize the Day (Chorale)' dance, crazy obsessed me yay! Can't wait to see how TFIC and WTCE bring to this amazing establishment.**

**Christopher Scott, thanks for the upbeat reviews.**

**Austra, I can count on you to really bring out the sun! Thanks!**


	8. Behind Blue Eyes

Spot and Mafia walked to their places on the street, just like they had planned. Mafia began hawking his headlines, and I walked up to him and bought a pape, just like they had planned. Then Mafia followed me down the block, just like they had planned. Spot was left alone on the corner of Main and Delancy. He hawked his headlines for an hour with no sign of Indy appearing. Just when the policemen were deciding to call this mission a failure, Indy came barreling out of an alleyway with his knife drawn. Spot blocked Indy with his papers, and twisted the knife out of his hands. The police ran out of their assorted hiding places and jumped into the fray. Indy was restrained, because of the uneven numbers.

"You are under arrest for kidnapping, and assault," a rather rotund policeman said, giving a sniff.

"I will get youse Spot Conlon!" Indy ranted as he was hauled off the closest containment unit.

"Suah he will, and Ise will become da next president of da United States!" Spot laughed, wrapping his arms protectively around me. I felt so peaceful and safe.

"Do you think I could go back to Bronx now?" Angel asked timidly.

"Of course, you can visit Brooklyn whenever you want!" I hugged my newfound friend as she gratefully smiled and returned to her place in New York. Angel was too delicate to be a Brooklyn girl, I could see that in her face. Bronx had a mix of tough and sweet, that's just the right place for a girl like her.

"Spot, is there something you'd like to say?" I asked.

"Youse are brilliant, youse are beautiful! I love youse!" he spun me around until I couldn't walk in a straight line.

"Diddo, but can we go see Smiles and Race. I miss my friends, and I'd like to check on Poker," I said.

"Of course, come on Mafia!" Spot yelled over his shoulder at his friend. Mafia shuffled along behind us as we celebrated our victory. When I walked into Poker's room, David was seated on a chair nearby. Talking with her. I checked her for signs of dizziness, fever, headache, stomachache, nothing. Just a few bruises.

"Alright, you're safe," as soon as the word 'alright' left my mouth, she was up and about. Stretching her legs and hugging Mafia.

"Heya Poker," he smiled, pecking her cheek. David looked discouraged.

"This is me old pal Mafia," Poker turned to him. "He's like a brudda to me!"

"Oh," David looked relieved to see that nothing was happening between them.

"This is Davey, he's me new boy!" Poker smiled and raced to David's shocked side. David and Mafia shook hands, Mafia was smiling and David looked flustered.

"Well, I saw what I needed to, let's head out!" I smiled. "Nice to see you again Poker, Davey!" I smiled. David said he, too, had to leave and see his parents.

"Alright," Poker sighed. I laughed.

David looked back at Poker when he was leaving, smacking into the doorframe. Spot and Mafia burst into laughter, I shook my head. Pulling the two Brooklyn boys out of the Lodging house after me. _Dorks. _Then I thought for a second. _Rephrasing: BOYS_!

"So, Shake, now that Indy is all taken care of, what do you want to do?" Spot asked, flinging an arm around me haphazardly.

"I really don't know," my brows furrowed in concentration.

"How about Medda's?" Spot asked me, a smirk tugging on his lips.

"I suppose that would be okay," I sighed. Then had the most brilliant thought ever. "Spot, change of plans. I need to speak to Miss Medda _now_."

"Umm, alright. Right dis way," he turned and went down another street. Eventually we ended up in front of Irving Hall. I walked in and asked a slight young woman if I could speak to Medda Larkson.

"I suppose, I'll be right back," she scurried away, her blond hair swinging.

"What's this all about?" Spot asked.

"None of your business!" I gave him a sly smirk of my own. Mafia looked almost scared. Medda appeared in a blindingly pink dress. I never really liked her in the movie. That's the only thing I could remember: I was from 2010, I knew 'Newsies' by heart.

"Hello there, who are you?" her beyond-false Swedish accent making me retch internally.  
"I need to speak to you privately about something," I said and she motioned for me to follow her.

"Who are you?" she piped.

"Shakespeare, a Brooklyn newsie," I smiled, "Spot's girl."

"Really? Good luck with that one," she gave a high-pitched squeal/laugh. (I really couldn't tell which) and sat down at a table.

"I was wondering, Miss Medda, if I could perform at the next newsie gathering. I am a Pointe dancer," Medda looked shocked and asked for my shoe size.

"Show me," she sent for a pair of shoes.

"Alright," I pulled on the tight satin slippers and went onto my toes. The familiar tingle and burn itching up my legs and making me smile. I did a few steps, and pirouetted. She laughed and clapped.

"Marvelous little one," she said. "You may most certainly perform. What song?" she asked.

"Anything, I do impromptu," I smiled. She just nodded and shooed me back to the boys.

"Spread the word, there is going to be a newsie gathering on Saturday!" Medda winked at me and smiled so wide I wondered how her face didn't split in half. "At nine o'clock, but miss Shakespeare needs to be here early. Around eight? Okay, buh-bye!" she smiled, waved and we left.

"What was that all about?" Spot asked. "Medda doesn't do that kind of thing!"

"Let's just say that my talent interests her," I said. Spot's eyebrows rose to join his hairline, but her remained silent.

"You're not going to ask?" I asked.

"You're going to tell me?" he shot back.

"Nope," I giggled. Something I did not do often.

"Are two done flirting?" Mafia asked.

"Yes, thank you," I said, turning to face the pale boy.

"Mafia, can you swim?" I asked him.

"Yeah, why?" poor naïve boy. I rushed over and shoved him into the water. He flailed and let out a girlish scream, plummeting to the cold water below the docks.

"You are mean!" Spot was already stripping to his underwear. _Why not? It's hot outside, and no one is around but some Brooklyn newsies!_ I pulled my skirt down to reveal my knee-length under wear and summer-tanned legs. I tucked the bottom of my blouse into the waistband of my underwear and jumped in after Spot. They looked like I had slapped them.

"What?" I asked.

"Goils ain't supposed ta do dat," Mafia was stunned as he treaded water.

"So?" I asked. _Wow, boys can be so…boyish. Can't a girl do what they can?_ "You know, there's a saying from where I come from. 'Girls can do anything boys can do better, and we can do it while wearing high heels!" I said proudly. Spot just shook his head and ducked under the water. I followed him. I could trust the water not to blind me, so I opened my eyes. It was murky under the docks, with very little light. Spot's hair floated around his head as he swam deeper and deeper. He turned and motioned me to follow him. I made sure I had enough air, and swam after him. He stopped next to a dock post surrounded by thick water weeds_, _and pointed; etched into the wood by his own hand was 'S.C. + J. P. FOREVER' surrounded by a cliché little heart. _And no one knew about it but us. _

I smiled and noticed the pulling ache in my lungs. I pointed up, Spot nodded. I shot to the surface, gulping fresh air. I expected Spot to follow me, but he didn't. I waited several seconds, still no Spot.

"Mafia, get over here, Spot's in trouble!" I shouted. I dove back under the water, not even caring if Mafia had heard me or not. Spot was still floating next to the dock post, his eyes closed, his hair above his head, floating in little tendrils around his face. I swam hurriedly to the plant, and yanked as hard as I could. Little bubbles floated out of Spot's half-open mouth. _Hurry, you're running out of time!_ I felt the ache in my chest growing more unbearable and wondered how it was for Spot. I gave a final tug, grabbing Spot under the arm I pulled up to the surface and into the sunlight.

I gave a cough and struggled to pull the unconscious leader to the docks; luckily Mafia had heard me and was waiting to take Spot from my sore arms.

"What happened?" Mafia asked, turning Spot onto his side and hitting him between the shoulder blades.

"He," I gasped, "Got his ankle stuck in some water weeds. I yanked him free."

"Good thinking," Mafia said. "You saved him!"

"Thanks," just then, Spot gave a cough and water spouted from his lungs.

"Oh, thank the good Lord!" I sighed, leaning over to pat him on the arm. He opened his eyes and smiled. _You almost drowned, and now you're smiling? Wow. _

"Hey, thanks," he whispered.

"No problem," I couldn't help but smile back. He sat up, shaking water from his hair.

"I wasn't in any danger, not with you two around," he said.

"If we hadn't have been there, Spot Conlon may have been no more. Say if you had gotten stuck carving the post," I shuddered at the thought. "Lets get you some dry clothes."

"Alright, and no one hears about dis but us?" Spot eyes Mafia and I wearily.

"Of course," I stood, walking towards the Lodging House. Once I was inside, and into dry clothing, I talked to Spot.

"I'm really grateful foah youse helping me down there. I coulda died! I _woulda_ died if it wasn't foah youse!" Spot said, running a hand through his wet hair. _He's hot when his hair is wet_ I thought.

"Shut up and kiss me," I leapt at him, crushing his face with my own. (Lets just say, for propriety's sake, it lasted a while) and then I walked to my room and closed the door. Working on my dance for Medda's and reviewing my day in privacy. _Spot Conlon is dangerous. Who doesn't like danger?_

I thought of a song from my time: Behind Blue Eyes

No one knows what it's like  
To be the bad man  
To be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes  
And no one knows  
What it's like to be hated  
To be fated to telling only lies  
_  
_But my dreams they aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be  
I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That's never free

No one knows what its like  
To feel these feelings  
Like I do, and I blame you!  
No one bites back as hard  
On their anger  
None of my pain and woe  
Can show through

No one knows what its like  
To be mistreated, to be defeated  
Behind blue eyes  
No one knows how to say  
That they're sorry and don't worry  
I'm not telling lies  
_  
_  
No one knows what its like  
To be the bad man, to be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes.

_Those haunting, lovely blue eyes! _I twisted and pirouetted around the room, thinking of those blue eyes and singing softly to myself. _A long day today. Another tomorrow. As long as I'm with him, I am safe._


	9. Dancers from the Future

**I love Ballet. So I had to add it. **

**Jete: A leap across the floor in which the legs are extended in the air. (Splits in the air) **

**Thank youse! If you want me to write any more, leave me a review and write 'Add' **

**If you think this is a good ending, and you want it to stop: Just leave a review and write 'End'. Thanks!**

* * *

Spot's newsies had spread the word about Saturday night thoroughly, much to my horror. My nerves were live wires as I walked to Medda's early with Spot and Mafia. "So, you gonna tell us what youse is doing now?" Mafia asked, flicking my bun.

"No!" I said, checking to make sure it wouldn't come loose on stage. I should have known better, my years of dance made it indestructible. When we entered Irving Hall, Medda had transformed the stage into a strange fairy-land. I took a deep breath. _I am not ready for this. _

"You'll be jus' fine, whatevah it is yoah doing," Spot said, leaning to whisper in my ear. I kissed Spot on the cheek, and sent the boys to Tibby's until show time. (Much to their disappointment.

"Miss Medda?" I said tentatively.

"Little Dancer?" she asked, coming around a corner in a froth of purple lace. Ick.

"Yes Ma'am." I said.

'You're dancing in your newsie clothes?" she asked, looking me up and down.

"I don't have anything else," I said, looking down at my rugged pants and shirt in shame.

"Don't worry darling, I have a dance dress that will fit you, and the set!" she whisked me to a costume room. It was pink. Everything. Was. Pink. _I have died and gone very far south!_

I looked at the dress she held in her hands, it was a thin material, almost like tissue paper. I expected it to rip when I touched it, but it didn't it floated through my fingers like silk. I liked it. It was green and blue, the colors shifting and changing in the light, like a fairy. _Just like the set, I wonder what song she chose._

"Miss Medda, may I try on the dress and shoes and run through the song? Then I can do my stage makeup to match the dress and the set," I said mischievously. Might as well stick to the theme…

"Of course, right this way," I pulled on the white silk dance tights (She like to entertain!) and the pale green point shoes she had found in my size, they fit just right. The music was soft and slow, lilting, the tune made my feet move without my brain telling them to do anything, my arms floated around my head and held firmly to their positions when I spun on Pointe. It was amazing. When I was finished, she asked me if I would do more than one set. Without realizing what I was saying, I answered.

"Of course, I love the feeling of dancing again!" I sighed.

"You best go do your makeup," she scolded with a teasing smile. "The boys will be arriving soon." I smiled in return and went back to the changing room. I pulled out the green and blue powders and a silver eye or lip liner. I couldn't tell, the make-up was basic and unmarked. On my face, by my eyes, I drew two butterfly wings with the silver liner. It looked sort of like I was wearing a mask across my eyes and nose. I filled in the wings with color, and put a light pink tint on my lips.

By the time I was finished, I could hear the boys and their dates gathered in the auditorium. My palms started to sweat with pre-performance jitters. Yikes.

The crowd cheered as Medda stepped onto the stage.

"Tonight we have a special performance by Brooklyn's own little dancer: Shakespeare." The crowd cheered again. Medda closed the curtain, and the piano player played an intro while I prepared. I laced up my shoes and walked to my mark on center stage. I took my opening pose, Medda opened the red curtains. The audience gasped. When the music started, I was gone from Irving Hall, Manhattan, New York 1899. I was in a world all to myself, filled with music.

I stood on Pointe, pulling my left leg slowly up my right calf to rest on my knee. I then extended it out to my side, so that it was parallel to the floor. I leaned forward until my leg was in a straight line, parallel to the wall. I lowered myself out of Pointe and spun as fast as I could, lifting my arms up above my head and landing softly, my leg extended behind me. I ran across the stage, leaping into a perfect Jeté. I landed and crossed my hands over my chest so that they were folded outwards. It was over too soon!

I was sad when the song ended. The audience sat in silence. Before Spot stood, clapping, the rest of the newsies followed, thunderous applause filling the room to the brim. I took the pose for the beginning to the next song, and danced four more sets, all ending in a standing ovation. I blushed and bowed. Medda took my place on the stage and motioned me forward again, I floated over to stand next to her.

"Miss Shakespeare of Brooklyn!" Medda said. The cheers were deafening. I'd never had so much fun in my entire life! It was amazing! Seeing the faces of my friends light up when I stepped my way to the audience.

"Youse was amazing!" Race kissed my cheek with a laugh. Clara hugged me, congratulating me. Jack laughed. Crutchy hugged me, Blink was amazed. I felt so happy and wrapped up in my own little world, I never knew that this much attention could be nice. But I was looking for _one_ specific face in the crowd of 'fans'.

"You were amazin'," he slipped his arms around my waist. I smiled and leaned back against his chest.

"Thanks," I said, "I wouldn't have believed anyone but you. Thanks for standing up and being the first one to clap for me."

"Well, everyone else was in Shakespeare-Shock. I had to wake them from their trance," he said with mock chivalry in his tone. I just lifted into Pointe and spun around to face him. His hands were on my waist, so I leaned back, lifting my right leg to my left knee and my hands reaching for the floor. Spot stood in shock as I flipped myself back to a standing position.

"Do you want to learn a pas de deux?" I asked.

"A _what?_" Spot asked.

"A ballet dance for two people, mostly a boy and a girl," I said. I had been in a pas de deux with my partner where I used to dance, it was so much fun and you could do so much more with two people.

"Suah," Spot nodded, "I won't have ta weah tights will I?" he asked.

"No, you could probably get away with your newsie clothes. Unlike a Prima Ballerina," I smirked.

"Alright, when do we start?" he asked. _Boys in my time hated ballet! Of course, now, it's not a standard 'girl' thing. Boys like the newsies don't know anything about it!_

"Tomorrow after selling, in my room," I sounded like a prim teacher. Good.

"Why don't you go change, then we can really dance?" Spot asked. I nodded, flitting back to the dressing room to put on my clothes. I stripped from the silk tights and the pretty dress. I pulled on my brown pants and checkered shirt, tying on my black boots. I was tempted to leave my makeup the way it was; but the consequences of sleeping with it on scared me. So I washed it off in a basin Medda had set up.

When I was walking past a curtain I heard voices. Both of them unfamiliar.

"You think Spot loves her?" 1 asked.

"Naw," 2 was skeptical, "I don't think so. You know Spot, love em and leave em!"

"Good point," 1 answered.

"She suah is pretty!" 2 said.

"Yeah, did youse see dat dancing? I'm jealous, even though Ise know dat would hoit!" 1 laughed.

_Stupid boys and their unneeded opinions. _

I walked on, not heeding their words. They didn't know Spot, nor did they know what happened with Bronx. It was a very well-kept secret. I smiled to myself as I walked out into the auditorium. The dance floor was cleared of chairs and several couples were dancing. Poker and Davey, Clara and Racetrack, Jack and a new girl. Spot was sitting at a table looking around. Probably for me. I came up behind him and put my hands over his eyes. He jumped up from his seat, knocking me over onto my butt. I hit my arm on a table as I fell.

"OW!" I yelled.

"Shake! Ise so sorry! I didn't know it was youse! Oh, gosh! Ise so so so sorry!" Spot was pulling my into his arms in very few seconds.

"I'm alright, really. No harm no foul," I said calmly.

"Really? Youse suah yoah okay?" he asked, looking me up and down for further injury.

"Yes, now; Mr. Overprotecive Pants, let's go dance!" I said.

"Alright," he lead me to the dance floor. I placed my arms around his neck, and he put his arms around my waist. I felt so safe and untouchable. I buried my face in his shirt. _I am home._ I looked over at Clara and Race, she was smiling up at him and he was stepping in a circle. Then he leaned down, and they kissed. It lasted for a few seconds. When they pulled apart for air, they were beaming. I laughed to myself.

"What is it?" Spot asked.

"Just thinking of Clara's fan girl dreams coming true," I smiled.

"Fan girl?" Spot asked, confused. I forgot: I hadn't told anyone where I was from.

"It's a long story about our past," I said. I was hoping he'd wave it off. Unfortunately; he didn't.

"Since we're together now, youse gotta tell me about yoah past." Spot said.

"Alright, but if you don't believe me, I warned you!" I said. I pulled Spot off the dance floor, to a small table out of the way. "I'm really from 2010, like, in the future." I said.

"Come on Juliet. Tell me the real story," Spot scoffed. This is what I was afraid of.

"Seriously, Spot, that's where I'm from! We found a note from Racetrack, and Clara _loves_ Racetrack Higgins. His real first name is Toni. You are an actor named Gabriel Damon; he's like 34 where I'm from. You're a major character in a movie called 'Newsies' made by a dude named Walt Disney. Choreographed by Kenny Ortega," I said, breathless. Spot looked confused. I had to say something that would make him see that this was the truth.

"You think David is a 'walking mouth'! When you came to the rescue during the strike, you yelled, 'Neva feah, Brooklyn is heah'!" I said. I was exasperated. "Jack asked you to join, but you were afraid he'd be scared. You said, 'You gotta show me Jacky-boy!"

"You weren't here then, how do you know?" Spot asked. Shock was written across his features.

"Because, I'm from the future!" I shouted.

"Alright, this is a lot to swallow at once," he shook his head. He took his hat off and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Clara's from there too. We found this note and came back to the past. It's a weird story I know," I leaned back in my chair. Spot pulled me onto his lap.

"I'm glad you came back. I love youse," he kissed me. I smiled and pulled away. For a second time that night, I knew I was really home. _Home._


	10. Author's NoteEnding

**Alright. I know I said I would add if you told me to. And you did. But right now I have to finish up 'In His Arms' then I'm working on a newsies mystery and another newsies fanfiction called 'Blissfully Ignorant'. When I finish those two I am planning on writing a sequel for Out Of A Hat. I promise. I'm really super sorry guys, but my muse is gone. I'll finish up IHA in three or four chappies and I'm co-writing Winner Takes All with **_elizabethbennet3553_ **Thanks. **


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